THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 
C.  S.  FORESTER 


^     C^fTY-pJ^Xy 


V-^As^i 


VI^C*'*-!^ 


■■^-. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/bookofwondersorpOOforrrich 


THE 

BOOK'OF  WONDERS 


OR 


PICTORIAL  MISCELLANY, 


FOR 


THEFAMILY   CIRCLE, 


BY 


MARK  FOERESTER. 


h^^Ji/^k 


100  ILIitJlSTRATION8. 


INDIANAPOLIS,  IND.: 

PUBLISHERS. 


LOAN  STACK 


f\GW 

F47 


CONTENTS. 


A  CHINESE  JUSTICE, 

A  CHAITEK  ABOUT  NEEDLES,   . 

ANECDOTE  OF  AN  ELEPHANT,    . 

A  GOLD  WATCH, 

ABOUT  ANGLING, 

ADOLPHUS  AND  JAMES,      . 

ANECDOTE  OF  AN  EGYPTIAN  GOVERNOR, 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON,     . 

A  CHILD'S  PRAYER,  . 

AUTUMN,    ... 

ANFJIONES  AND  VIOLETS, 

ABOUT  RAILROADS,    . 

AN  ArrRACTIVE  PICTURE, 

A  RESIDENCE  AMONG   THE   INDIANS, 

BANKS  OF   THE  RIVER  NILE,     . 

BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATION. 

BILLY  EGG, 

COLONEL  THORNDIKE, 

COCK    ROBIN  AND  THE  SPARROW,      . 

DIGNITY  ON  TRIAL,    .... 

DIALOGUE,  — OLD  MAN,  FATHER,  AND  CHILDREN. 

DO  YOU  ATTEND  SCHOOL.'  .... 

DO  NOT  BLAME  OTHERS  FOR  WHAT  YOU  HAVE  DONE, 

DIAIX)GUE  BETWEEN  LILT  AND   MART  ABOUT  THE  ANGELS, 


18 
73 
49 
120 
138 
143 
180 
SU 


S48 

280 

298 

308 

158 

S73 

290 

56 

S15 

19 

81 

98 

155 

158 


306 


CONTENTS. 


DIAMOND  MINES, 

DISCOVERY   OF  GLASS,       . 

DOVES, 

DECEPTIONS,       . 

ELLA    GKAY,       . 

FOKRESTER'S    EVENINGS  AT  HOME ATMOSPHERE, 

MOUNTAINS, 

WATER, 

RIVERS, 

FILIAL  DEVOTION, 

FLORIE, 

FLATTERY 

GOLD  MINES, 

HOW  THE  GREEKS  TALKED, 

HONESTY  IS  THE  BEST  POLICY, 

HENRY  CLAY, 

HEAR  BOTH  SIDES, 

INGENIOUS  PUZZLE,  . 

ICELAND  AND  NORWAY,    . 

IMPORTANT  QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS, 

INTELLIGENCE  IN  A  FISH, 

IRON    MINES, 

JOHNNY  LEONARD  AND  HIS  MOTHER, 

"KA-UELU,"  SANDWICH  ISLANDS,     . 

"LOGIC," 

LITTLE  FRANK  AND  THE   BOAT, 

LAURA  LEE  AND  HER  DOG  POMPEY, 

LIFE  INSURANCE, 

LOUIS  PHILIPPE,  .... 

LINES  BY  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS, 

LITTLE  HARRY  LEE,  .... 

LITTLE  ITEMS  ON  IMPORTANT  MATTERS, 

LITTLE  EDMUND, 

MAGNETISM, 


FA6> 

177 
225 


274 
52 

68 
112 
207 
247 
159 
222 
252 
244 

54 

98 
241 
258 

97 
190 
235 
256 
267 
303 
271 
140 
165 
174 
216 
231 
238 
254 
286 
308 

22 


CONTENTS. 


MY  MOTHER, 
MY  GRANDFATHER,    . 
MALAY   VILLAGE, 
MY  FATHER, 

MISCHIJiTVOUS  THEODORE, 
MY  VISIT  TO  THE  COUNTRY, 
MONEY  AT  INTEREST', 
NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE,     . 
NEATNESS  AND  ORDER,      . 
NATIONAL  MONUMENT  TO  WASHINGTON, 
OLD  PONTO, 

OUR  TOMMY,  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 
QUICKSILVER,  OR  MERCURY, 
READING, 
SELF-LOVE, 

SPRING,       .... 
STATUE  OF  PETER  THE  GREAT, 
SUMMER,     .... 
SAM3IY  AND  WILLIE, 
STORIES  FOR   LITTLE  FRED, 
SONG  OF  THE  DISCONTENTED  COOK, 
SILVER  MINES,  . 
THISTLE  DOWN, 
TO   DAFFODILS, 
TEARS, 
TIN   MINES, 

THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE, 
THE  AZTEC  CHILDREN, 
THE  SCHOOL  MISTRESS, 
THE  BIRTH-DAY  GIFT, 
THE  FIRST  SNOW  STORM, 
THE  BROKEN  WINDOW, 
THE  SINGULAR  ECHO 
THE  PEARL  FISHER  i, 
THE  NEWFOUNDLAND  DOG, 
A* 


CONTENTS. 


THE  LirrLK  ERRAND  RUNNER,. 
THE  SILVER  SHILLING  FIECE,  . 
THE  LOST  CHILD, 

THE  SHEPHERD  OF  LES  BAS   LONDES, 
THE  BIRDS, 

THE  OSTRICH, 

THE  PYRAMIDS  OF  GIZEU, 

THE  CITY  OF  CAIRO    AND  THE  SPHINX, 

THE  IBEX, 

THE  CHINESE, 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  THE    SHELL, 
THE  STORY  OF  A  LITfLE  LA3IB, 
THE  CHILD   AND  THE  MUSICAL    BOX, 
THE  BOY  WHO  LOVED  HIS  SISTER,    . 
THE   CLEVER  BOY,      . 

THE  BEAVER, 

THE  BASKET  OF  CHERRIES, 

THE  PEACOCK,  . 

THE  RATTLESNAKE,    .       •    . 

THE  CHAMOIS,   ... 

THE  DERVISE,    ... 

THE  CHILD  AND  THE  BROOK 

THE  ANSWERING  BLOW,    . 

THE  WHALE,       . 

THE  MAGNETIC  TELEGRAPH, 

THE  Y'OUNG  MATHEMATICIAN  —  T    H.  SAFFORD, 

WINTER,     .  .  .  .  . 

V\^ONDERrUL   SAGACri'Y.     . 

WISHES, 


FAQS 

44 

50 


65 
84 
85 

8G 
100 
118 
129 
130 
131 
13(1 
133 
171 

2a7 

194 
2U3 
23-1 
251 
253 
970 
277 
295 

97 
299 

45 

83 


.# 


THE  BOOK  OF  WONDERS, 

OR 

FORRESTER'S  PICTORIAL  MISCELLANY, 


The    Crystal  .Palace- 

Crystal  Palaces  are  among  the  marvels  of  this  marvellous  age. 
They  are  grander  than  the  palace  which  the  Genius  of  the  Wonder- 
ful Lamp  is  said  to  have  erected  for  that  hero  of  eastern  story,  named 
Aladdin.  The  grandfathers  and  grandmothers  of  the  boys  and  girls 
who  now  live,  never  dreamed  of  such  things.  If  they  should  rise 
from  their  graves,  and  be  led  into  the  Crystal  Palace  at  New  York, 
they  would  rub  their  eyes  and  look  wildly  about.  Like  old  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  after  his  long  nap  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  they  would  be  strangely 
puzzled ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  they  would  fancy  themselves  in 
fairy-land,  or  dream-land,  or  some  other  strange  and  mysterious 
country. 

But  however  it  would  be  with  them,  one  thing  is  certain.  The 
boys  and  girls  of  our  times  do  live  in  the  era  of  crystal  palaces ;  and 
they  want  to  know  something  about  them,  and  jjarticularly  do  they 
want  to  know  about  the  one  but  recently  open  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  a  picture  of  which  we  have  selected  as  our  frontispiece. 

The  idea  of  building  a  palace  of  iron  and  glass  first  entered  into 
the  brain  of  Joseph  Paxton.  lie  was  once  a  poor  boy.  When  he 
grew  up,  he  was  only  a  gardener  to  an  English  duke.  But  he  had  a 
thoughtful  mind.  He  was  industrious,  and  labored  to  improve  him- 
self. By  degrees  he  made  it  obvious  that  he  was  no  common  man. 
When  the  World's  Fair  was  first  talked  of  in  England,  he  conceived 
the  idea  of  the  first  Crystal  Palace  as  suited  to  hold  the  goods  to  be 


8  PICT^ORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

exhibited,  and  to  accommodate  the  visitors,"  who  were  expected  from 
every  part  of  the  globe. 

At  first,  he  shared  the  fate  of  nearly  all  great  inventors.  His  plan 
.vas  laughed  at.  Lictle  men,  who  fancied  themselves  great,  sneered 
at  it,  and  said,  "  Pooh  !     The  thing  is  visionary  !    It  is  impossible  ! " 

But  genius  triumphed.  The  Palace  went  up  with  marvellous  speed, 
and  became  the  greatest  wonder  of  that  wonder  world  in  Hyde  Park. 

The  friends  of  art  in  America,  seeing  the  success  of  the  first 
World's  Fair  and  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  resolved  to  get  up  another. 
With  Americans,  you  knew,  to  resolve  is  to  do.  So  up  went  a  palace 
on  the  Sixth  Avenue  in  New  York  city,  not  so  large  as  the  one  in 
England,  but  perhaps  fully  equal  to  it  in  symmetry  and  beauty. 

The  Palace,  as  you  see  by  the  picture,  is  in  the  form  of  a  cross. 
It  is  the  largest  structure  of  any  kind  in  this  country.  As  you  enter 
it,  you  find  yourself  looking  down  what  is  called  the  nave,  or  central 
aisle,  365  feet  in  length,  and  41  feet  wide.  You  walk  half  way 
down  this  distance,  and  looking  up,  you  behold  a  noble  dome  spring- 
ing up  to  the  height  of  118  feet  above  your  head.  You  then  look 
around  you,  and  on  four  sides  you  see  the  naves  stretching  out  to  the 
distance  of  182  feet.  As  you  stand  and  gaze  on  this  almost  magic 
scene,  you  say,  "  Well,  this  is  a  wonderful  place,  truly  !  " 

Suppose  we  now  take  a  walk  round  the  Palace  —  in  thought,  I 
mean.  Let  us  then  leave  our  place  under  the  dome,  and  go  back 
along  the  nave  leading  to  the  entrance  on  the  Sixth  Avenue,  wLich  is 
shewn  on  the  picture  in  the  rear  of  the  railroad. 

Well,  here,  then,  we  begin  our  walk.  But  stop.  What  does  this 
young  lady  wish,  who  is  seated  just  inside  the  door,  with  a  stand 
filled  with  canes,  parasols,  and  umbrellas  before  her  ?  "  Your  cane, 
sir ;  your  parasol,  miss,  if  you  please, "  she  says.  "  You  must  leave 
your  cane  and  parasol  here." 

"  O,  very  well,  miss  ;  I  guess  you  are  very  particular  folks  in  this 
region,"  you  say  to  yourself  as  you  give  up  your  cane  or  parasol, 
and  take  a  little  ticket  with  a  number  on  it  in  return.  Now,  look- 
ing to  the  right  you  see  an  aisle,  with  France  written  over  it  in  large 
letters.  Let  us  enter  it  and  take  a  peep  at  the  things  France  has 
sent  to  the  exhibition.  But,  O  dear,  who  can  find  time  even  to  look 
at   this  display  ?     Here  are  all  kinds  of   things  for  the   kitchen  ; 


THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE.  9 

there  are  all  sorts  of  tools  for  mechanics ;  yonder  are  silks,  vel- 
vets, laces,  &c.,  for  the  ladies ;  preserves  and  pickles  for  epicures ; 
carpets  and  tapestries  for  parlors  and  drawing  rooms ;  silver  ware 
for  the  table  ;  and  here,  I  declare,  is  a  clock  with  a  tree  rising 
over  it,  which  is  full  of  artificial  birds,  that  keep  moving  about,  and 
singing  too,  in  obedience  to  the  machinery. of  the  clock.  And  in 
another  place  is  a  large  bear,  carved  in  wood,  grappling  with  an  un- 
happy man,  who  undertook  to  hurt  him.  See,  how  his  claws  enter 
the  man's  back !  It  makes  one's  flesh  creep  to  look  at  the  poor  fellow. 
Bear  hunting  may  be  very  fine  sport,  but  I  would  rather  be  gazing 
quietly  at  the  wonders  of  this  Palace,  than  hunting  wild  bears  in  the 
forest  of  Ardennes,  or  any  other  forest. 

But  here  we  are  in  the  nave  again.  Let  us  cross  over  and  peep 
at  Austria,  Denmark,  and  Italy,  on  the  other  side.  Here  you  find 
lots  of  guns,  pistols,  dirks,  swords,  and  some  handsome  cutlery.  Well, 
Austria  needs  such  things,  because  she  oppresses  her  people,  and  can 
keep  them  only  by  the  use  of  force.  But  we  don't  want  to  look  at 
weapons  of  war  ;  so  let  us  walk  over  yonder,  and  study  that  group 
of  statues  from  Denmark.  How  beautiful  they  stand,  those  images 
of  Christ  and  his  apostles  !  In  the  centre  is  Jesus,  looking  so  full 
of  tenderness,  that  the  sight  brings  a  tear  to  your  eyes,  and  a 
thought  of  affectionate  gratitude  swells  your  breast.  On  his  right 
stands  Paul  preaching  with  a  soul  full  of  power.  You  gaze  on  him 
a  while,  and  his  voice  seems  to  break  on  your  ear  in  earnest  tones. 
Then  you  turn  to  Simon,  Bartholomew,  James,  and  Thomas,  to  Peter, 
John,  and  the  others ;  until  your  heart  is  full  of  feeling,  and  your 
mind  of  admiration ;  you  go  away  blessing  the  great  Thorwaldsen, 
for  executing  such  a  work  of  beauty. 

New  let  us  step  into  Italy.     Here  you  find,  among  many  other 
things,  some  pretty  paintings,  and  some  very  fine  statuary.     The 
veiled  nun  is  especially  beautiful,  and  a  statue  of  Columbus  wrought . 
in  silver  thread,  or  in  filigree,  as  the  artists  say,  will  be  sure  to  at- 
tract all  eyes. 

Passing  leis  irely  along  through  the  Italian  department,  we  find 
oarselves  again  in  the  nave.  Here  we  pause  to  look  at  the  figure 
of  the  mother  asleep  on  the  prairie  ;  while  a  huge  eagle  is  in  the 
act  of  endeavoring  to  steal  away  her  child.     From  this,  we  turn  to 


10  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

the  eq-uestriat.  statue  of  the  great  Wasliington  ;  the  colossal  figure  of 
Webster  ;  the  marble  figures  of  Eve  and  the  Greek  Slave  ;  with  many 
others  which  I  have  not  space  even  to  name. 

We  have  now  reached  the  departments  of  America  and  England. 
Here  you  find  specimens  of  almost  every  thing  that  men  use  or  wear. 
The  stately  carriage,  the  life  boat,  the  brass  cannon,  the  tiny  - 
cambric  needle,  the  richly-bound  book,  the  mighty  steam  engine, 
gorgeous  furniture,  farming  utensils,  hardware  of  every  variety,  and, 
in  a  word,  almost  every  thing  of  man's  modern  invention.  As  you 
gaze  on  this  vast  display,  you  grow  weary  ;  your  head  aches ;  you 
are  hungry^;  you  sigh  for  rest ;  and  are  very  well  pleased  to  see,  in  a 
corner  of  the  palace,  a  spacious  restorator,  where,  by  paying  a  good 
price,  you  may  rest  a  while,  and  satisfy  the  demands  of  your  appetite. 

After  being  refreshed,  you  start  again.  Now  you  ascend  a  spa- 
cious staircase,  and  seek  the  picture  gallery,  where  you  find  a  large 
display  of  oil  paintings,  some  of  which  are  very  fine.  Battle  pieces, 
scripture  scenes,  pictures  of  life  at  home  and  abroad,  in  ancient  and 
modern  times,  are  here.  You  pause  at  every  step  to  study  the  mean- 
ing of  the  painter.  Now  you  gaze  at  the  brave  Luther,  thundering 
defiance  at  the  Diet  of  Worms ;  soon  you  pause  before  Queen  Vic- 
toria, and  admire  the  look  of  the  old  Iron  Duke  as  he  presents  the 
baby  prince  with  a  casket.  Presently  you  stop  long  before  a  pic- 
ture of  a  poor  family  of  the  martyr  ages,  now  happily  long  past, 
reading  the  Bible.  The  door  is  locked,  for  it  is  dangerous  to  be 
seen  reading  the  Bible.  The  old  patriarch  is  seen  listening  with 
intense  attention  to  the  words  of  the  holy  book.  His  good  dame 
sits  in  rapt  devotion,  a  tear  of  sacred  affection  gathering  in  her  eye. 
The  maiden  daughter  is  behind  her  brother,  looking  beautifully  mod- 
est, as  she,  too,  listens  to  his  reading.  And  the  whole  picture  is  so 
natural,  so  touching,  it  speaks  to  your  heart,  and  you  brush  away  a 
tear,  and  feel  yourself  a  better  child,  as  you  turn  to  the  next  pic- 
ture. Thus  you  pass  slowly  along,  until  it  begins  to  grow  dusky. 
This  reminds  you  that  you  must  hasten.  You  tear  yourself  away 
from  the  picture  gallery,  and  proceed  hastily  over  the  other  portions 
of  the  galleries. 

Here  you  find  rich  displays  of  ladies'  dresses,  caps,  and  corsets  , 
beautiful  specimens  of  porcelain  work,  and  miniature  fi,:;ures  in  teira 


THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE. 


11 


cotfa ;  a  splendid  variety  of  silver  ware  ;  perfumery,  soaps,  wigs, 
piano-fortes,  and  a  multitude  of  other  things,  which,  as  the  auction- 
eers say  in  their  advertisements,  are  too  numerous  to  mention. 

By  this  time,  you  feel  almost  as  tired  as  a  soldier  after  a  day's  hard 
fighting.  So  you  walk  down  stairs  with  a  somewhat  heavy  step.  Tak- 
ing your  cane  or  parasol  from  the  young  lady  at  the  door,  you  walk  out 
and  jump  into  the  first  omnibus  which  runs  near  your  home,  or  your 
hotel.  And  when  you  get  seated  cosily  in  the  softest  corner  of  the 
sofa  at  home,  you  say  in  the  spirit  of  the  renowned  Sancho  Panza, 
of  glorious  memory,  "  Blessed  be  the  man  who  invented  sofas." 
Presently,  a  cup  of  tea,  a  plate  of  nice  cold  beef,  with  some  delicate 
slices  of  fresh  bread  and  butter,  restore  your  spirits.  You  talk  over 
the  sights  of  the  day,  and  ab  an  early  hour  seek  your  bed,  where 
you  fall  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  your  cheek  touches  the  pillow  — 
if  you  have  any  dreams,  they  are  filled  with  pictures  of  what  you 
saw  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  And,  it  may  be,  if  you  should  live  to  be 
as  aged  as  Mark  Forrester,  you  may  one  day  shoulder  your  walk- 
ing stick,  and  tell  your  little  curly-headed  grandchildren  of  the  pleas- 
ant day  you  spent  at  the  Crystal  Palace. 


12  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


The    Aztec    Children. 


As  my  friend  Neddie  Naylor  was  trundling  his  hoop  one  hot  day, 
at  the  head  of  some  ten  or  twelve  other  boys,  and  shouting  every 
little  while  to  encourage  those  who  lagged  behind,  he  saw  an  old- 
fashioned  chaise,  drawn  by  a  very  venerable  old  horse,  slowly  mov- 
ing along  the  road. 

"  That  chaise  belongs  to  ray  uncle  Oliver,  or  else  my  name  isn't 
Naylor,"  said  Neddie  to  himself,  as  he  viewed  the  chaise. 

Giving  his  hoop  another  crack,  he  pressed  on  in  advance  of  his 
schoolmates,  until  a  head  appeared  peering  from  the  chaise.  It  was 
a  noble-looking  head  too,  covered  with  a  broad-brimmed  white  hat, 
and  displaying  a  face  as  good  natured  as  a  warm  heart  could  make 
it.  The  features  were  large,  without  being  coarse.  The  lips  wore 
a  pleasant  smile  ;  the  eyes  looked  quite  merry,  as  they  scanned  Mas- 
ter Neddie's  movements. 

No  sooner  did  Neddie  see  that  face  than  he  exclaimed,  "  There's 
my  uncle  Oliver  !     Good  by,  boys  ! " 

In  another  moment  he  was  by  the  side  of  the  horse,  which  stopped 
at  his  approach. 

"  How  are  you,  my  boy  ?  "  asked  his  uncle. 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,  uncle  Oliver.  I  am  glad  to  see  you," 
said  Neddie. 

"  Well,  come  up  into  my  chaise,  boy,  and  ride  down  with  me  to 
the  house,"  added  his  uncle. 

Neddie  walked  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  chaise,  carefully 
placed  his  hoop  inside  of  the  dasher,  and  then  jumped  up  beside  his 
uncle  ;  and  they  rode  on  in  company  to  Neddie's  home. 

Neddie's  uncle  had  but  recently  returned  from  a  visit  to  New 
York.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  little  nephew,  and  loved  to  instruct 
him.  Neddie  was  equally  fond  of  listening  to  his  uncle,  and  to 
hoard  up  in  his  mind  the  things  he  heard  from  his  lips.  So,  on  the 
evening  of  his  uncle's  arrival,  he  said  to  him,  — 

"  Please,  uncle,  tell  me  if  you  saw  any  thing  wonderful  in  New 
York." 

**  Yes,  Neddie,  I  saw  the  Aztec  Chi:  dren  " 


THE   AZTEC    CHILDREN. 


13 


"  The  Az^ec  children  !     Who  are  they,  uncle  ?  " 

"They  are  great  curiosities,  I  assure  you.     The  boy,  who  is 
named  Maximo,  is  only  three  feet  high  ;  the  girl,  Bartola,  is  hardly 
two  feet  six  inches   in   height.     They  are  Liliputians,  beyond  a 
doubt." 
"  How  old  are  they,  uncle  ?  " 

"  The  boy  is  thought  to  be  ten  or  twelve  ;  the  girl  seven  or  nine 
years  old.  But  as  they  do  not  know  themselves,  and  as  they  have 
bpen  brought  away  from  all  their  relations,  their  precise  age  cannot 
be  known  with  certainty.'* 


"  They  must  be  queer  looking  creatures,  uncle  Oliver.  Why, 
they  beat  Tom  Thumb !  I  should  like  to  see  them  very  much,"  said 
Neddie,  laughing. 

"  You  will  get  a  very  correct  idea  of  them  from  the  picture,  Ned- 
die. You  see  their  limbs  are  slender,  well  formed,  and  graceful. 
Their  most  peculiar  feature,  next  to  their  size,  is  their  narrow  heads 
and  prominent  faces.  Their  hair  is  jet  black,  and  curls  quite  grace- 
fully.    They  are  lively  children,  and  seem  to  be  apt  to  learn." 

"  Where  dii  they  come  from,  uncle  ?  " 


14  PICTORIAL    MISCKLl.ANY. 

"  From  the  interior  of  Central  America.  Two  gentlemen,  Messrs. 
Huertis  of  Baltimore,  and  Hammond  of  Canada,  having  read  the 
great  work  of  Mr.  Stephens,  about  an  .Indian  city,  hitherto  unvisited 
by  whites,  resolved  to  explore  it.  In  company  with  a  Spanish 
gentleman,  Senor  Pedro  Velasquez,  and  after  meeting  with  many 
difficulties,  they  reached  it,  and  found  it  a  very  ancient  and  very  cu- 
rious place.  In  a  sumptuous  palace,  they  found  a  body  of  priests 
called  Kaanas,  of  little  stature  and  feeble  minds,  but  almost  idolized 
by  the  people.  Among  these  priests  were  Maximo  and  Bartola,  two 
orphan  children  of  a  Kaanan  priest.  The  travellers  resolved  to 
carry  away  these  children.  But  Mr.  Hammond  died,  and  Mr.  Huer- 
tis was  killed  by  the  Indians.  Senor  Velasquez,  however,  made  good 
his  escape  with  the  children,  and  after  much  and  severe  suffering, 
reached  Grenada.  From  tlience,  under  the  care  of  a  guardian,  they 
came  to  the  United  States." 

Neddie  was  very  much  interested  in  this  story  of  the  Aztec  chil- 
dren ;  and  having  asked  many  more  questions,  which  I  have  not 
room  to  print,  he  presently  grew  sleepy.  Falling  back  in  his  chair, 
he  went  to  sleep  with  his  mouth  open.  Seeing  this,  his  uncle,  who 
was  a  little  waggish,  held  a  very  little  pear  by  the  stem,  arid  gently 
dropped  it  into  his  mouth.  Neddie  started,  rubbed  his  eyes,  spit  out 
the  pear,  and  then  cried  out,  "  Who's  that  ?" 

Uncle  Oliver  laughed ;  Neddie's  father  and  mother  laughed  too. 
His  grandmother  laid  down  her  knitting,  lifted  up  her  head,  and 
peered  out  through  her  spectacles.  Neddie  looked  foolish  a  mo- 
ment, then  laughed  at  his  uncle's  joke,  and  after  remarking,  "  It's 
time  I  was  abed ! "  took  a  lamp  and  disappeared.       • 


THE    SCHOOL   MISTRESS. 


The  School  Mistress, 


15 


SoriE  years  age,  one  of  my  friends  furnished  me  with  a  parcel  of 
manuscripts  of  which  I  made  a  book.  Among  them  was  an  address 
to  her,  who  first  "  taught  his  young  ideas  how  to  shoot,"  or  if  she 
was  not  the  very  first,  she  was,  at  any  rate,  the  first  who  undertook 
it  in  the  school-house.  I  have  read  it  many  times,  and  delight  to 
read  it.  It  almost  enables  me  to  live  my  childish  days  over  again. 
It  brings  fresh  to  mind  my  venerable  teacher,  her  kindness,  her  laws 
of  love  and  justice,  and  the  penalty  which  I  sometimes  justly  under- 
went. I  love  to  think  of  this  last,  only  because  I  trust  it  made  me  a 
better  boy  and  a  better  man.  But  here  is  the  address.  Read  it. 
If  you  never  saw  anything  of  the  kind,  ask  your  grandfather  if  he 
has  not. 

And  thou,  the  Mistress  of  our  little  school, 

For  age  revered,  and  wisely  skilled  to  rule, 

From  whom  our  minds  their  infant  knowledge  drew, 

As  flowers  from  vernal  skies  unbibe  the  dew,  , 

Though  many  years  have  passed  since  then,  art  not 

By  all  thy  little  company  forgot ; 

Still  on  our  hearts  thy  virtues  have  a  claim, 

Still  dwells  upon  our  tongues  thine  honored  name 

When  we  began,  in  learned  order  set 

With  eye  and  finger  on  the  alphabet. 

The  task,  (a  mighty  task  it  seemed  to  be,) 

To  search  the  mysteries  of  A,  B,  C, 

We  heard  the  changeless  law,  that  not  a  Iook 

Should  leave  the  pages  of  the  spelling  book ; 

That  none  the  seat  assigned  him  should  forsake ; 

That  none  with  whispers  should  the  silence  break ; 

Nor  was  it  last  or  smallest  in  the  code. 

Which  ruled  the  realm  of  learning's  young  abode, 

That  none  should  turn  his  luckless  head  awry, 

To  watch  a  spider,  or  impound  a  fly. 

Enthroned  upon  her  ancient  elbow  chair, 
She  swayed  her  sceptre,  and  dispensed  her  care  ; 
She  praised  the  boy,  whose  time  was  rightly  spent. 
But  woe  to  him  on  whom  her  frown  was  bent ; 
Who  dared  her  awful  word  to  disobey, 


16 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


And  what  was  meant  for  science  give  to  play. 
Thrice  hapless  he,  who,  tumbling,  sprawled  the  floor, 
Or  sought  with  truant  step  the  tempting  door. 
Or,  reckless  of  the  pain  and  bitter  tear, 
A  bodkin  thrust  into  his  neighbor's  ear. 
Ah  me !     The  wrinkles  curled  upon  thy  face, 
Thine  eye  flashed  fire,  and  threatenings  came  apace ; 
Wrath  shook  thy  cap  ;  more  frightful  than  thy  nod, 
Thine  arm  uplifted,  waved  the  birchen  rod. 

When  time  had  flown,  and,  consecrate  to  play, 

Arrived  at  last  the  joyous  Saturday, 

Forth  from  the  school  with  leap  and  shout  wo  went, 

With  youth  inspired,  on  youthful  pleasures  bent ; 

The  favored  space,  which  once  a  week  could  bless 

With  freedom  from  our  learned  governess. 

No  longer  subjects  of  her  sovereign  law. 

Whose  word  controlled,  whose  ferule  struck  with  awe, 

In  various  ways,  for  various  ends  we  part, 

Joy  on  our  lips,  arid  transport  in  our  heart ; 

We  heard  no  more  her  tongue,  nor  feared  her  ]t»ok- 

Nor  o'er  our  heads  the  rod  of  terror  shook 


THE    BIRTH-DA^    blti. 


17 


The  Birth-day  Gift. 

The  populous  kingdom  of  Ava,  in  India  beyond  the  Ganges,  was 
cnce  inhabited  by  a  minor  prince,  who  was  brought  up  in  the  lux- 
urious indolence  of  an  eastern  palace.  When  he  had  reached  the 
age  of  seventeen,  which,  by  the  laws  of  that  country,  was  the  period 
of  majority  for  the  crown,  all  the  great  men  of  his  court,  and  the 
governors  of  the  provinces,  according  to  established  custom,  laid  at 
his  feet  presents  consisting  of  the  most  costly  products  of  art  and 
nature  that  they  had  been  able  to  procure.  One  offered  a  casket  of 
the  most  precious  jewels  of  Golconda ;  another,  a  curious  piece  of 
clock-work  made  by  an  European  artist;  another,  a  piece  of  the 
richest  silk  from  the  looms  of  China ;  another,  a  Bezoar  stone,  said 
to  be  a  sovereign  antidote  against  all  poisons  and  infectious  diseases ; 
another,  a  choice  piece  of  the  most  fragrant  rosewood  in  a  box  of 
ebony  inlaid  with  pearls ;  another,  a  golden  cruse  full  of  genuine 
balsam  of  Mecca ;  another,  a  courser  of  the  purest  breed  of  Arabia ; 
^nd  another,  a  female  slave  of  exquisite-  beauty.  The  whole  court 
of  the  palace  was  overspread  with  rarities ;  and  long  rows  of  slaves 
were  continually  passing  loaded  with  vessels  and  utensils  of  gold  and 
•silver,  and  other  articles  of  high  price. 

At  length  an  aged  magistrate  from  a  distant  province  made  his 
appearance.  He  was  simply  clad  in  a  long  cotton  robe,  and  his 
lioary  beard  waved  on  his  breast.  He  made  his  obeisance  before  the 
young  monarch,  and  holding  forth  an  embroidered  silken  bag,  he 
thus  addressed  him : 

"  Deign,  great  king,  to  accept  the  faithful  homage  and  fervent 
good  wishes  of  thy  servant  on  this  important  day,  and,  with  them, 
the  small  present  I  hold  in  my  hand.  Small,  indeed,  it  is  in  show, 
but  not  so,  I  trust,  in  value.  Others  have  offered  what  may  decorate 
thy  person— here  is  what  will  impart  perpetual  grace  and  lustre  to 
thy  features.  Others  have  presented  thee  with  rich  perfumes — here 
is  what  will  make  thy  name  sweet  and  fragrant  to  the  latest  ages. 
Others  have  heaped  round  thee  the  riches  of  a  temporal  kingdom  — 
this  will  secure  thee  the  treasures  of  an  eternal  one." 

He  said,  and  drew  from  the  purse  a  book  containing  the  Moral 
*^recepts  of  the  sage  Zendar,  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous  man  the 
2 


18  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

East  had  ever  beheld.  "  If,"  he  proceeded,  "  my  gracious  sovereign 
will  condescend  to  make  this  his  constant  companion,  not  an  hour 
can  pass  in  which  its  perusal  may  not  be  a  comfort  and  a  blessing. 
In  the  arduous  duties  of  thy  station,  it  will  prove  a  faithful  guide 
and  counsellor.  Amidst  the  allurements  of  pleasure  and  the  incite- 
ments of  passion,  it  will  be  an  incorruptible  monitor,  that  will  never 
suffer  thee  to  err  without  warning  thee  of  thy  error.  It  will  render 
thee  a  blessing  to  thy  people,  and  blessed  in  thyself;  for  what  sov 
ereign  can  be  the  one  without  the  other  ?" 

He  then  returned  the  book  to  its  place,  and  kneeling  gave  it  into 
the  hands  of  the  king.  He  received  it  with  respect  and  benignity, 
and  history  affirms  that  the  use  he  made  of  it  corresponded  with  the 
wishes  of  the  donor. 


A  Chinese  Justice, 


There  was  a  certain  Intendant  of  a  province  in  that  empire,  who 
out  of  regard  to  a  particular  friend  of  his,  made  him  Chief  Justice 
of  the  city  where  he  resided.  It  happened  that  this  Intendant,  on  a 
sudden,  became  inaccessible,  and,  under  pretence  of  indisposition, 
would  neither  do  business  nor  be  seen.  The  Chief  Justice  was 
extremely  concerned  at  this  behavior;  became  often  to  his  house, 
but  was  denied  admittance :  at  last,  however,  it  was  granted ;  and, 
on  entering,  he  found  the  Intendant  in  a  very  melancholy  posture ; 
he  therefore  entreated  his  friend  not  to  conceal  from  him  the  real 
cause  of  his  affliction.  For  a  while  the  Intendant  resisted  the 
entreaties  of  his  kind  visitant ;  but  at  last  told  him  he  had  lost  the 
imperial  seal  out  of  his  cabinet,  which  yet  remained  locked,  and  had 
no  marks  of  violence  upon  it;  and  was  therefore  disabled  from  doing 
anything,  and  cut  ofl'  from  all  hopes  of  recovering  this  necessary 
instrument  of  his  office.  The  Chief  Justice  bade  him  keep  up  his 
spirits,  ^nd,  instead  of  despairing,  apply  the  great  abilities  he  was 
known  to  possess,  in  contriving  some  means  to  get  the  seal  again. 
The  Intendant  sighed,  and  said  it  was  impossible.  The  Chief  Justice 
asked  him  if  he  had  any  potent  enemy?  Ves,  said  the  Intendant, 
the  Governor  of  this  city  bears  a  strong  antipathy  to  me,  because  a 


iJluNItV    ON   TRIAL.  19 

friend  of  his  missed  tl.e  employment  I  now  hold.  Very  well,  said 
the  Chief  Justice;  then  I  have  thought  of  a  method  to  set  all  this 
matter  right ;  do  you  cause  the  most  valuable  of  your  effects  to  be 
brought  into  your  inner  apartment,  and,  as  soon  as  they  are  safe,  let 
the  outward  part  of  your  palace  be  set  on  fire  ;  the  Governor,  as  it  is 
his  duty,  will  be  forced  to  come  to  your  assistance ;  as  soon  as  he 
appears,  deliver  him  the  cabinet  in  which  the  seal  was  placed ;  if  it 
was  he  who  caused  it  to  be  stolen,  he  will  be  glad  to  restore  it,  and 
at  all  events  the  blame  will  lie  at  his  door,  not  yours.  The  Intend- 
ant  instantly  pursued  his  friend's  scheme  ;  the  fire  drew  the  Gov- 
ernor thither,  as  they  expected  ;  the  cabinet  was  delivered  to  him  in 
a  seeming  fright ;  and  the  next  day,  when  the  danger  was  over,  the 
Intendant  sending  for  it  again,  found  the  seal  replaced;  for  the 
Governor,  finding  himself  over-reached,  wisely  compounded,  by  thus 
returning  the  seal,  for  the  fraud  he  had  committed  in  procuring  it. 
Thus  the  calmness  of  the  Chief  Justice  proved  a  remedy,  where  a 
man  of  superior  parts,  but  without  equanimity,  would  have  resigned 
every  hope,  and  abandoned  himself  to  despair. 


Dignity  on  Trial.  ^ 

A  YOUNG  lady  of  rank  and  fortune  went  out  to  walk  in  her  father*s 
wood.  "  Pray,  madam,  (said  the  gray-headed  steward,)  may  1 
humbly  entreat  that  you  will  not  go  far  from  home ;  you  may  meet 
with  strangers  who  are  ignorant  of  your  quality."  "Give  your 
advice  (answered  she)  when  desired.  I  admit  of  no  instructions 
from  servants." — She  walked  on  with  satisfaction,  enjoying  a  clear 
sky  and  a  cool  breeze.  Fatigue  seized  her,  regardless  of  high  birth; 
and  she  sat  down  on  a  smooth  spot  at  the  side  of  a  high  road,  ex- 
pecting some  equipage  to  pass,  the  owner  of  which  would  be  proud 
to  convey  her  home.  After  long  waiting,  the  first  thing  she  saw  was 
an  empty  chaise,  conducted  by  one  who  had  formerly  served  her 
father  as  a  postilion.  "  You  are  far  from  home,  madam ;  will  you 
give  me  leave  to  set  you  down  at  my  old  master's  ?"  "  Prithee,  fel- 
low, be  not  officious." — Night  was  fast  approaching,  when  she  was 
accosted  by  a  countryman  on  horseback,  "  Mistress,  will  you  get  up 


20  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

behind  mc ,  Dobbin  is  sure-footed  ;  you  shall  be  set  down  where  yon 
will,  if  not  far  off,  or  much  out  of  my  way."  "  Mistress  !  (exclaimed 
she)  how  dare  you  presume  ?"  "  No  offence,"  said  the  young  man, 
and  rode  away,  humming  the  song  Hove  Sue. — It  was  night:  the 
clouds  gathered,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  rustled,  and  the  young 
woman  was  terrified  with  what  she  took  for  strange  sounds.  There 
came  an  old  man  driving  an  empty  dung-cart.  "  Friend,  (said  she, 
with  an  humble  accent,)  will  you  let  me  go  with  you?" 

Pride  is  the  most  galling  burthen  a  person  can  walk  under.     Pru- 
dence saves  from  many  a  misfortune :  pride  is  the  cause  of  many. 


S  elf-Love. 

When  Appelles  was  about  to  execute  a  picture  of  Venus,  the 
<!:oddess  of  love  and  of  beauty,  his  object  was  to  concentrate  every 
delicacy  of  expression,  and  every  grace  of  contour,  of  which  the 
human  form  is  susceptible  ;  but  whom  should  he  choose  for  a  model? 
He  had  called  a  thousand  beauteous  females  each  a  Venus  in  hev 
lurn  :  but  that  was  the  language  of  love — now  he  must  examine  the 
fulness  of  their  form,  and  the  accuracy  of  their  proportions,  with  the 
rigor  of  a  critic,  and  the  eye  of  an  artist.  In  each  was  discovered 
some  partial  imperfection  ;  from  assembling  the  beauties  of  them  all, 
at  last  he  completed  his  Venus.  The  damsels,  to  whom  the  painter 
had  been  indebted,  flocked  with  overflowing  impatience  to  behold 
themselves  in  the  picture,  which  had  spread  the  renown  of  Appelles 
through  every  city  of  Greece.  "  Yes,"  said  Galatea,  casting  a  care- 
less glance  at  the  canvass,  "  he  has  really  hit  my  complexion," — and 
went  away  satisfied  that  she  was  Venus.  Sapphira  came  —  and 
blushed — and  smiled.  "Poor  creatures!"  said  Aspasia;  "they 
will  burst  with  envy,  for  he  has  copied  me  to  the  very  shape  of  my 
lingers."  Appelles  had  indeed  copied  the  fingers  of  Aspasia,  but 
that  was  all. 

The  moral  is,  that  many  persons  possessing  a  single  feature,  or 
limb,  or  talent,  or  disposition,  worthy  of  praise  or  attention,  in  an 
evil  hour,  conscious  of  their  endowment,  shall  extend  it  to  the  whole 
of  their  figure  and  character,  and  so  believe  themselves  very  perfect 


DIALOGUE. 


21 


Dialogue. 

OLD  MAN,  FATHER  AND  THE  CHILDREiJ. 

Children,     ihi  beautiful !     Just  look,  papa, 

See  what  that  g^ood  old  man  has  got  — 
A  book  all  made  for  little  folks  ; 
Pray  buy  us  one,  pa,  will  you  not  ? 

Father.     No  —  no.     The  world  is  full  of  books, 

Ten  thousand  more  than  you  will  read  — ' 
Better  to  save  your  money  now 
Fo/  what  you  may  hereafter  need. 

Old  Man.     I^et  me  assure  you,  sir,  this  book, 
Made  for  the  little  girl  and  boy, 
Will  prove  a  faithful  friend,  indeed, 
Whose  comiiiiT  will  be  hailed  with  joy. 

Give  us  your  name  —  and,  if  you  please, 

One  simple  dollar  —  in  advance  — 
And  we  agree  each  month  to  make 
/'  Those  little  hearts  with  joy  to  dance. 

J-  Stories  adapted  to  their  years, 

L;  Fine  cuts  to  please  the  little  eye — 

Sweet  simple  moral  lessons  too, 
To  teach  them  how  to  live  and  die. 


22  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

lliis  little  pamphlet  every  month 
Shall  be  a  helper  kindly  given, 

To  aid  you  in  the  glorious  vi^ork 

Of  training  up  your  babes  for  heaven. 

Johnny      Oh,  do  subscribe,  papa ;  I  want 
Exactly  such  a  book  as  that  — 
And,  if  you  please,  I  '11  wear  a  while 
That  very  same  old  beaver  hat. 

Katy.     And  I  '11  not  buy  that  pretty  doll, 

(Dear  me,  its  cunning  eyes  were  blue,) 
But  then  you  know,  papa,  the  book 
Is  useful,  and  is  pretty  too. 

Sammy.  .  I  '11  save  my  cents  —  see  if  I  don't, 

Till  they  will  count  up  ten  times  ten  ; 
And  if  you  '11  lend  the  dollar,  pa. 
Why,  I  will  pay  you  for  it,  then. 

All.     Now,  do  papa,  we  will  not  ask 

A  single  Christmas  gift  beside — 
Just  give  the  good  man  ten  times  ten  — 
That 's  a  good  father — please  subscribe. 

Father.     Well,  here,  send  me  three  copies  if  you  please 
Some  other  little  folks  I  know 
Have  need,  but  have  not  means  to  buy, 
What  I  can  very  well  bestow. 

But  pray  be  punctual,  send  them  all. 
And  we  must  read  them  as  they  come, 

And  keep  them  nice,  that  in  a  year 
The  numbers  may  be  bound  in  one. 


Magnetism. 

My  Young  Friends* 

The  long  evenings  at  hand  will  afTord  abundant  opportunity  for 
you  to  examine  many  of  the  curious  things  in  nature.  In  whatever 
direction  you  turn  your  attention,  you  will  find  many  things  to  won- 
der at  and  admire.     I  propose  saying  something    in     this     arficlo 


MA?NETISM. 


23 


about  Magnetism.     1  want  you  to  put  your  shi.llings  and  sixpences 
together,  and  go  or  send  to  Mr.  Joseph  M.  Wightman's,  No.  33 


Cornhill,  Boston,  for  a  Horse-shoe  Magnet,  as  it  is  called,  and  a  Mag- 


netic Needle,  mounted  on  a  stand.  The  magnet  will  cost  fifty  cents, 
the  needle  one  dollar.  Having  received  the  articles,  invite  in  your 
schoolmates  and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done.  I  put  the  needle  on 
to  th3  brass  stand.  It  turns  its  north  pole  to  the  North  Star.  Here 
you  :an  see  how  ships  are  steered  across  the  ocean  into  any  desired 
port  with  such  accuracy.  The  needle,  however,  does  not  point 
exactly  north  in  all  places.    In  Biffin's  Bay  it  is  said  to  point  almost 


24  PICTORIAL     IISCELLANT. 

west.     You  will  observe  that  the  north  pole  of  the  magnet  dips  a 
little.     It  is  nearer  the  table  than  the  opposite  extremity. 

We  will  now  try  some  experiments  with  the  magnet  and  the 
needle  together.  Hold  the  north  pole  of  the  magnet  towards  the 
north  pole  of  the  needle,  and  see !  how  it  flies  away !  Turn  the 
magnet  over,  so  that  the  south  pole  be  presented,  and  it  comes  back 
rapidly.  You  may  thus  keep  the  needle  whirling  very  innocently 
"  not  touching  it."  To  make  this  experiment  more  curious,  hold 
a  thick  book  between  the  magnet  and  needle.  It  will  operate 
about  as  well  right  through  my  dictionary.  Get  a  cup  full  of  water 
and  a  small  sewing  needle.  Touch  the  needle  to  the  magnet,  and 
then  place  it  very  carefully  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  It  won't 
break  in,  if  you  are  careful,  but  will  make  a  good  compass,  and 
square  round  north  and  south,  as  correctly  as  the  Boston  one.  Take 
the  needle  off  the  stand,  and  put  the  north  pole  near  to  the  north 
pole  of  the  needle  in  the  cup,  and  see  how  it  will  skate  around  to 
get  away ! 

Your  magnet  will  take  up  your  pocket  knives  and  impart  its 
power  to  them.  Try  it  on  some  new  steel  pen  points.  The  points 
that  touch  the  north  pole  of  the  magnet  will  be  made  south  pole  on 
that  end.  Touch  them  to  the  needle,  and  you  will  see.  One  end 
of  the  pen  will  be  a  north  pole,  the  opposite  a  south  pole.  No 
two  north  poles  ever  come  together ;  they  are  never  agreed,  but  get 
away  from  each  other  as  far  as  possible. 

I  have  told  you  but  little  yet  about  magnetism.  Perhaps  enough 
to  awaken  your  attention.     Live  to  grow  wiser. 


The  First  Snow-Storm. 


What  a  great  change  does  a  fall  of  sncw  produce  on  the  face  of  the 
landscape  !  Overnight,  we  see  the  fields  green,  the  trees  brown  and 
naked,  and  the  winding  highway  as  clean  and  hard  as  if  it  had  been 
swept;  the  fallow-lands,  too,  were  brown,  and  there  was  something 
of  a  sprmg-look  in  the  turnip-fields  where  the  sheep  were  feeding; 
when,  lo,  next  morning  the  whole  scene  as  undergone  a  change  ! 
Some  mighty  hand  has  been  at  work  duiing  the  night,  and  every 
object  is  now  covered  white  over  with  snow,  which  has  fallei'  fluke 


THE    PIRST    SNOW-STORM.  25 

by  flake,  and  hour  by  hour,  from  dark  to  daylight,  until  every  way 
around,  the  landscape  is  covered,  nearly  knee-deep,  to  little  boys, 
with  the  feathery  flakes.  A  fine,  bright  morning  per  rhance  follow  3, 
and  the  eye  fairly  aches,  while  looking  upon  the  glittering  prospect 
which  lies  around.  Hill,  and  wood,  and  field,  and  footpath,  the  long 
highway,  and  the  broad,  open  common,  are  mantled  over  with  snow, 
upon  which  the  wagon  moves  along  with  scarce  a  sound,  anc"  the 
horse  is  beside  you  before  you  are  aware  of  it ;  for  every  noise  is 
deadened  by  the  deep  fall  of  snow.  That  is  not  a  morning  to  sit 
moping  over  the  fire,  when  so  much  amusement  is  to  be  found  out 
of  doors — when  there  are  fortifications  to  erect,  and  houses  to  build, 
and  snow-men  to  make,  and  a  snow-ball  to  roll  along,  until  it  is  as 
uigh  as  our  own  heads;  and,  above  all,  a  good-natured  snow-balling 
natch  to  take  place  between  two  parties  of  boys,  on  the  open  com- 
1  ion  where  we  are  sure  neither  to  injure  ourselves,  nor  do  any  one 
harm.  That  is  a  morning  to  tie  a  thick  comforter  round  the  neck 
lace  the  boots  tightly,  and  put  on  the  stoutest  pair  of  worsted  gloves 
and  sally  out  in  the  keen,  cold,  bracing  air,  knee-deep  among  the 
clean,  white,  untrodden  snow;  for  the  sky  is  blue  overhead,  and  the 
sun  shines  bright,  and  he  only,  who  cares  not  to  come  home  with  a 
pair  of  rosy  cheeks,  will  sit  and  keep  company  with  the  cat  by  the 
fireside. 

And  now  we  will  fancy  ourselves  out  in  the  cold,  healthy  air, 
making  a  snow  man.  But  first  we  must  hold  a  brief  consultation  as 
to  whether  he  shall  have  legs  or  not.  A  dozen  pairs  of  han  "s  arc 
at  work  in  a  moment,  for  it  is  decided  that  he  shall  have  a  solid 
foundation  to  stand  upon,  and  the  best  way  will  be  to  commence 
rolling  a  ball  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  field,  to  the  spot  where 
we  intend  him  to  stand  ;  and  if  we  can  but  make  it  long,  like  a  .argi- 
thick  garden-roller,  his  body  will  be  formed  at  once,  and  to  do  this 
we  must  fasten  a  dozen  or  two  of  snow-balls  together,  until  they  arc 
a  yard  in  length  or  more,  and  when  this  is  done,  we  have  only  to 
commence  rolling  away.  Over  and  over,  heavier  and  heavier  it  be- 
comes, until,  at  last,  from  its  very  weight  it  licks  up  the  snow, clean 
down  to  the  very  grass,  leaving  as  clear  a  track  behind  as  if  t  \r 
space  had  been  swept  by  a  broom.  Onward  we  go,  it  requires  all 
our  united  strength  to  move  it,  fo'  it  is  now  massy,  and  round,  and 


26  PICTOR  AL    MISCELLANY. 

heavy,  as  the  lower  portion  of  a  largo  column.  Then  comes  the 
great  Herculean  task,  how  shall  we  rear  it  on  end  ?  All  hands  are 
at  work  in  an  instant ;  we  have  succeeded  in  getting  a  rail  under  it 
—  we  lift,  we  pull,  we  purchase  —  we  get  it  half-way  np,  and  to  our 
great  disappointment  it  comes  in  two.  Never  mind,  there  is  half  of 
it  securely  fixed  ;  our  snow  man  is  already  three  feet  high.  After 
great  difficulty,  we  add  the  other  portion  to  it,  and  now  we  begin  to 
form,  his  shoulders,  his  neck,  his  head,  his  arms ;  we  have  got  a 
short  pipe  to  stick  in  his  mouth,  (the  best  mouth  for  a  pipe  ;)  and  we 
have  got  two  pieces  of  coal  for  his  eyes.  And  now  we  have  built 
him  up,  we  will  stand  at  a  distance  and  pelt  him  with  snow-balls, 
and  see  who  can  first  hit  the  pipe  in  his  mouth,  or  knock  off  one  of 
his  arms  :  and  famous  exercise  shall  we  find  it,  for  not  one  out  of  our 
whole  number  will  feel  cold. 

Oh,  what  grand  castles  have  we  erected,  ere  now,  out  of  the  snow ! 
We  used  to  go  to  the  lath-renders,  and  get  him  to  supply  us  with 
thin  pieces  of  deal,  which  we  reared  up  and  placed  cross-wise,  and 
piled  the  snow  upon,  making  windows,  and  doors,  and  massy 
walls,  and  tall  turrets,  worked  into  battlements,  and  a  huge  snow- 
tower,  that  stood  high  and  white  over  all ;  and  around  it  we  scoo^ied 
away  the  snow  for  the  moat,  and  with  the  laths  we  built  a  bridge 
across ;  we  placed  snow-wardens  on  the  battlements ;  we  stationed 
snow-sentinels  beside  the  bridge ;  and  when  we  had  completed  it, 
we  retreated  to  a  measured  distance,  and  then  commenced  storming 
the  castle  with  snow-balls,  when  we  struck  down  tower,  and  turret, 
and  kee  er,  and  battlement,  and  laid  the  wardens  and  sentinels 
proitrat?,  nor  ceased  until  we  left  our  castle  a  heap  of  snowy  ruins. 


THE    MAGNETIC    TELEGRAPH. 


27 


iiuiiiMiflmuuMmiuiutiMuuuiiniuiimiiiifliuniniiuiuiiiHiimiBiHii^^ 


The    Magnetic    Telegraph. 


I  PROPOSE  to  give  rny  little  readers  some  account  of  the  Mag- 
netic Telegraph,  one  of  the  nnost  wonderful  discoveries  of  mod- 
ern times.  I  fear  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  make  some  of  my  very 
young  readers  understand  the  operation  of  this  curious  contrivance 
fully,  for  it  is  one  that  requires  deep  thought,  and  some  considerable 
knowledge  of  electricity  and  magnetism  ;  yet  I  will  endeavor  to 
explain  the  various  parts  of  the  subject  in  a  simple  maimer,  and 
illustrate  the  most  difficult  portions  with  engravings,  so  that,  if  you 
study  hard,  you  can  master  it.  If  there  is  anything  which  you  do 
not  understand,  go  at  once  to  your  parents  or  teacher  for  assistance, 
but  do  not  proceed  unless  you  perfectly  comprehend  what  you  may 
have  already  read. 

It  may  be  proper  here  to  inform  my  readers,  that  the  principal 
agent  or  power,  employed  in  sending  news  from  one  place  to  another, 
with  almost  incredible  speed,  over  the  Magnetic  Telegraph,  is  sim- 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


ply  electricity,  or,  as  you  would  call  it,  lightning.  As  his  kind  i)t 
electricity  is  induced,  or  set  in  motion,  by  the  galvanic  battery,  which 
I  shall  presently  explain,  and  as  it  varies,  in  some  other  respects, 
from  that,  which  is  created  by  the  electrical  machine,  it  has  been 
thougiit  proper  to  call  it  galvanic  electricity.  I  suppose  most  of  you 
iiave  seen  the  electrical  machine,  and  witnessed  som^  of  the  curious 
experiments,  which  can  be  tried  with  it.  How  quick  the  sparks  fly 
from  it  I  And  then  how  much  mirth  is  made  when  "a  ring"  of 
boys  and  girls  have  taken  hold  of  the  chain  to  receive  a  shock! 
The  first  time  I  saw  this  experiment,  I  determined  to  keep  hold  of 
the  chain  at  all  events.  The  shock  appeared  so  slight  and  easy, 
that  I  was  sure  I  could  retain  my  grasp ;  but,  snap !  and  my  hands 
were  powerless,  and  I  learned,  at  once,  the  power  of  this  unseen 
and  mysterious  agent.  But  I  am  wandering  from  our  subject.  1 
will  return  to  it,  and  explain  to  you  the  various  parts  of  the  tele- 
graph ;  and  first, 

The  Battery.  —  It  was  discovered,  a  great  while  ago,  that  when 
two  metals  were  placed  in  contact  with  each  other,  with  some  liquid, 
capable  of  acting  upon  one  more  than  upon  the  other,  electricity  of 
a  peculiar  character  would  be  developed.  Look 
upon  the  adjoining  cut,  and  you  will  easily  un- 
derstand what  I  mean.  It  represents  a  glass 
vessel  nearly  filled  with  nitric  acid,  a  zinc 
plate  marked  Z,  and  a  copper  plate  marked  C. 
Nov/  the  supposed  motion  of  the  electric  current, 
within  the  glass  vessel,  is  from  the  zinc  plate  to 
the  copper  one,  as  the  pointers  indicate,  and  if 
the  two  metal  plates  are  connected  by  a  wire 
without  the  vessel,  as  you  will  see  in  the  cut, 
the  electricity  will  pass  around  through  the 
wires  from  the  copper  to  the  zinc  again,  thus 
forming  a  constant  current  running  round  and 
round.  The  instant  the  wires  are  separated, 
however,  even  in  the  slightest  degree,  the  circuit  is  broken,  and  the 
current  stops,  for  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  galvanic  electricity 
will  not  jump  across  a  space,  in  sparks,  as  it  does  from  an  electrical 
machine,  but  keeps  upon  the  wires  or  metals.     These  wires  may  be 


THE    MAGNETIC    TELEGKAPH. 


2» 


extended  to  any  distance,  and  the  effect  will  be  the  same.  I  have  no 
doubt,  that,  if  it  were  possible  to  carry  them  completely  round  the 
world,  and  a  current  sufficiently  strong  were  created,  the  result  would 
be  similar.  Wonderful  as  it  may  appear  to  you,  the  time  required  for 
the  electricity  to  pass  from  the  copper  plate  to  the  zinc  one,  whether 
the  wires  are  long  or  short,  is,  apparently,  the  same  ;  nor  can  any 
time-piece,  however  correct,  measure  so  small  a  space  !  When  the 
wires  are  very  long,  however,  it  is  necessary  to  increase  the  power 
or  intensity  of  the  current.  This  is  done  by  uniting  from  teji  to 
fifteen  or  twenty  pairs  of  plates,  by  connecting  tiie  copper  plate  of 
each  pair,  or  vessel,  with  the  zinc  plate  in  the  next.  In  working  the 
telegraph,  Groves'  battery  is  used.  It  is  made  differently  from  the 
one  I  have  explained  to  you,  but  the  principle  is  the  same.  The 
wires  from  the  battery  are  extended  along,  from  city  to  city,  upon 
posts,  about  thirty  feet  high,  and  two  hundred  feet  apart.  The  line 
from  Boston  to  New  York  is  two  hundred  and  thirty  miles  long. 
The  electricity  goes  to  New  York  upon  the  upper  wire,  and  returns 
upon  the  lower  one.  To  prevent  the  fluid  from  running  away,  the 
wires  are  wound  around  a  glass  knob  at  every  post,  and,  as  elec- 
tricity will  not  run  over  glass,  it  cannot  escape. 

I  will  now  explain  another  very  important  part  of  our  subject ; 
which  is  the 

Electro-Magnet.  —  In  the  article  on  Magnetism,  you  will 
find  a  description  of  the  horse-shoe  magnet ;  but  the  electro- 
magnet is  a  very  different  thing.  A  horse-shoe  magnet  is  cabled  .•» 
natural  magnet,  because  it  has  power  of  itself 
to  take  up  iron  and  steel.  Now  the  electro- 
magnet has  no  power  of  its  own,  being  simply 
a  bar  of  iron,  bent  into  the  shape  of  a  horse- 
shoe magnet,  and  wound  upon,  each  side  with 
insulated  wire,  as  you  will  see  in  the  cut.  Dur- 
ing the  passage  of  an  electric  current  from  the 
battery  along  this  wire,  the  bar  exhibits  a  re- 
markable degree  of  magnetic  power,  far  superior  to  that  of  a  steel 
magnet  of  the  same  size.  I  have  seen  an  electro-magnet,  while 
under  the  influence  of  a  simple  battery,  sustain  two  fifty-six  pound 


80  PICTORIAL  miscp:llant 

weights,  or  one  hundred  and  twelve  pounds,  —  more  than  some  boy> 
could  lift.  But  the  iiistant  the  magnetic  current  is  broken,  it  cease? 
to  be  a  magnet,  and  has  no  more  power  than  a  piece  of  wood  or 
stone.  Repeat  the  experiment  as  often  as  you  will,  the  result  will 
be  the  same.  I  want  you  to  impress  this  strongly  upon  your  minds, 
for  it  is,  in  fact,  a  very  important  part  of  the  subject.  Why  the  fact 
that  a  current  of  electricity  running  round  a  bar  of  iron  should  make 
it  a  magnet,  no  one  can  tell.  We  only  know  that  it  is  so.  We 
now  come  to  the 


Recording  Apparatus.  —  It  consists  of  an  electro-magnet  and  a 
lever  mounted  or  balanced  upon  a  stand.  At  the  right  hand  end 
of  the  lever,  and  directly  over  the  electro-magnet,  is  fastened  a 
piece  of  soft  iron,  and  upon  the  left  hand  end  there  i«  a  blunt  point, 
which  marks  the  strip  of  paper  when  the  electro-magnet  is  in  action. 
Upon  the  extreme  right  hand  of  the  stand  you  will  notice  two  screw- 
cups,  with  openings  on  the  top  to  receive  the  wires  from  the  battery. 
These  cups  are  both  connected  with  the  electro-magnet  by  the 
wires.  Now  if  one  wire  from  the  battery  is  placed  into  one  of  these 
screw-cups,  and  the  other  wire  is  attached  to  the  remaining  cup,  the 
galvanic  connection  is  complete,  and  the  current  of  electricity,  in 
order  to  get  back  from  the  copper  plate  in  the  battery  to  the  zinc 
one,  must  pass  round  the  electro-magnet  a  great  number  of  times. 
This,  as  I  have  before  stated,  now  becomes  a  powerful  magnet,  and 
attracts  the  piece  of  iron  upon  the  right  hand  end  of  the  lever.  The 
left  hand  end  is  thrown  up  against  the  strip  of  paper,  and  th?  blunt 
point  makes  a  mark  upon  it.  This  is  the  instrument  which  writes 
the  letters.  The  large  cut  at  the  beginning  of  this  article  is  only 
the  recording  apparatus  with  some  clock-wcrk  attached,  to  wind  oiF 
the  paper  as  it  is  written  upon.     The  next  cut  represents  the 


THE    MAGNETIC    TELEGRAPH. 


31 


Signal  Key.  —  This  instru- 
ment is  generally  employed  to 
make  the  various  contacts,  dif- 
fering in  succession  and  length, 
by  which  each  letter  is  known. 
The  fingers  of  the  operator  are 
seen  resting  upon  a  knob  at- 
tached to  a  metallic  spring.  By 
pressing  this  knob  downwards,  it 
is  brought  upon  a  metallic  conductor  connected  with  a  screw-cup 
upon  the  right  hand  end  of  the  instrument.  The  screw-cup  upon 
the  left  hand  end  is  connected  with  the  spring  itself.  One  of  the 
wires  from  the  battery  passes  into  the  first  screw-cup.  The  other 
screw-cup  receives  one  of  the  wires  of  the  telegraph,  which  proceeds 
to  the  recording  apparatus  at  the  other  station.  By  the  other  tele- 
graphic wire,  the  remaining  extremities  of  the  battery  and  of  the 
recording  apparatus  are  connected.  The  circuit  is  therefore  com- 
pleted by  depressing  the  knob,  and  immediately  broken  when  the 
fingers  are  removed. 

All  the  curious  magnetic  apparatus  which  I  have  mentioned, 
besides  a  gi*eat  variety  of  other  instruments,  magnets,  electrical  ma- 
chines, and  the  like,  you  can  find  at  the  store  of  Palmer  and  Hall, 
at  number  526  Washington  street,  Boston.  I  have  lately  spent 
some  hours  in  examining  their  various  contrivances  for  testing  the 
power  of  electricity,  some  of  which  I  will  hereafter  explain  to  you 
and  1  can  assure  you  that,  old  as  I  am,  I  gained  a  great  deal  ot 
highly  interesting  and  valuable  information. 

I  have  thus,  step  by  step,  explained  the  various  parts  of  the  mag- 
netic telegraph.  Do  you  understand  it  ?  If  so,  we  will  now  pro- 
ceed to  put  our  machine  together.  We  will  suppose  that  the  battery 
and  the  signal  key  are  in  Boston,  and  that  the  recording  apparatus 
is  in  New  York.  One  wire,  from  the  battery,  is  attach^  to  the 
signal  key.  From  the  other  end  of  the  key,  it  passes  upon  the  posts, 
over  hill  and  vale,  across  rivers  and  plains,  to  the  registering  appa- 
ratus in  New  York,  and  back  again  to  the  battery  in  Boston.  What 
a  long  distance  the  fluid  goes  to  get  across  from  one  plate  in  the 
battery  to  the  other,  to  be  sure ' 


32 


PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


The  large  cut  will  show  you,  at  a 
glance,  all  the  various  parts  of  the  tele- 
graph together.  The  left  hand  part  of 
the  cut  is  supposed  to  be  the  office  in 
Boston,  with  the  battery  and  signal  key ; 
and  the  right  hand  side  the  office  in  New 
York,  together  with  the  recording  appa- 
ratus. The  distance  between  them  is 
supposed  to  be  two  hundred  and  thirty 
miles.  1  cannot  represent  this  great 
space  upon  one  page,  so  you  must  imag- 
ine it.  When  it  can  be  done,  these  wires 
are  extended  along  upon  the  side  of 
some  rail-road,  a  representntion  of  which 
you  will  see  upon  the  cut. 

Now  observe,  that  it  wants  only  the 
small  place  on  the  signal  key  to  be  united 
in  order  to  complete  this  great  circuit. 
I  press  down  the  knob  and  instantly  the 


^'-m: 


TIIK    MAGNETIC    TELEGRAPH.  •>? 

current  is  in  motion.  Quick  as  thought  it  has  gone  to  New  York, 
and,  passing  round  the  bar  of  iron,  it  becomes  a  powerful  magnet 
and  attracts  the  iron  above  it.  This  throws  the  point  upon  the 
other  end  of  the  lever  upwards,  and  a  mark  is  made  upon  the 
paper  like  this,  - .  This  mark  stands  for  the  letter  e.  So  you  see  1 
have  written  a  letter  in  New  York,  while  I  am  myself  in  Boston  ' 
I  depress  the  knob  again,  and  for  a  longer  time,  when  the  same 
effect  is  produced  in  New  York,  only  this  time  the  mark  is  longer 
than  before,  and  somewhat  like  the  following,  — ,  which  stands  for 
the  letter  t.  Again  I  depress  the  knob,  three  times  in  succession,  a« 
fast  as  I  can,  and  we  shall  now  have  in  New  York  this  character, 
,  which  stands  for  the  letter  s.  In  short,  by  varying  the  depres- 
sions upon  the  signal  key,  all  the  various  letters  of  the  alphabet  are 
obtained,  as  well  as  all  the  figures.  Between  each  letter  of  a  word 
a  short  space  is  used,  and  long  ones  between  the  words  them- 
selves. Here  are  the  signs  euiployed  for  the  whole  alphabet.  1 
should  like  to  have  some  correspondent  write  me  a  letter  by  these 
telegraphic  characters. 

TELEGRAPHIC    ALPHABET. 


a 

11  —  - 

&  -  --- 

b 

0  -    - 

Nurntrals. 

c  -  -    - 

P 

1 

d 

q 

2  --■ 

e  - 

r  -    -  - 

3 

f 

s  -  -  - 
t  — 

u   - 

4 

5 

6 

h  . ,  .  . 

\  .  . 

V    -  -  -  

7 

j   ^,. 

vv 

8 

k 

X - 

9 

I 

y  --  -- 

0 

m 

z   -  -  -     - 

Many  amusing  anecdotes  are  related  of  the  extravagant  ideaj^ 
which  ignorant  people  have  had  respecting  this  great  discovery. 
One  fellow  sat  for  nearly  a  whole  day,  watching  the  wires,  and  upon 
being  asked  what  he  was  gazing  at,  replied,  that  he  was  "  waiting 
to  see  a  letter  go  by  .'"     Another  brought  a  sealed  letter  to  the  Bos- 


34  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

(on  otTir.e,  with  five  cents  to  pay  the  postage,  requesting  that  it  might 
be  sen.  to  New  York  bij  telegraph  I  However,  we  cannot  wonder 
a  great  deal  at  their  ignorance,  for  in  truth  the  most  learned  men  in 
the  world  know  as  yet  but  very  little  of  the  true  nature  («"  electricity; 
and  if  they  could,  lilife  the  fabled  Rip  Van  Winkle,  enjoy  a  twenty 
years'  nap,  they  might  be  as  ignorant  of  the  progress  which  will, 
perhaps,  be  made  in  that  time,  as  these  persons  now  are.  An  indi- 
vidual, speaking  of  electricity,  remarked,  that  Franklin  caught  the 
wild  horse,  but  that  Professor  Morse,  the  inventor  of  the  electrical 
telegraph,  had  put  the  harness  on.  This  is  true,  yet  there  is  still  a 
great  deal  to  be  learned  about  this  wild  horse.  Perhaps  some  of  the 
bright  eyes  now  resting  upon  this  page  may  be  the  means  of  giving 
to  the  world  further  light  upon  this  great  and  mysterious  subject. 
You  must  all  remember  that  Franklin  was  a  boy  once,  yet  diligent 
and  constant  study  enabled  him,  alone  and  unaided,  to  bring  dowc 
lightning  from  the  clouds,  antl  make  it  subservient  to  the  will  of  man. 
His  name  will  be  remembered  for  ages  to  come,  as  a  benefactor  to 
!iis  race.  Aside  from  the  satisfaction  you  would  feel  in  having  done 
vour  duty,  is  not  this  alone  a  sufficient  inducement  for  you  to  study 
diligently,  while  young,  such  useful  and  instructive  books  as  cannot 
but  make  you  wiser  and  better  ?  You  may  not  receive  your  reward 
at  once ;  your  childish  investigations  may  not  immediately  be 
crowned  with  success,  but  the  reward  will  come,  as  surely  as  seed- 
time is  followed  by  the  harvest.  Nor  will  the  seeming  delay  impair 
in  the  least  degree  its  value,  for  with  it  will  be  mingled  the  happy 
consciousness  of  a  well  spent  life. 


The  Broken  Window. 

"Charles!  watch  the  bird  while  I  am  gone  out;  don't  let  him 
.1y  out  of  the  room.  If  you  go  out  yourself  you  must  not  on  any 
account  go  into  the  garden." 

"  Yes,  father,  I  will  mind  you  ;"  and  the  father  left  the  room,  care- 
fully closing  the  door  after  him. 

These  words  passed  between  a  little  boy,  some  ten  years  old,  and 
t.is  father,  in  a  room  that  contained  a  beautiful  canary  bird,  which 


THE    BROKEN   WINDOW.  $5 

had  bejn  purposely  let  out  of  its  cage  to  enjoy  the  liberty  of  flying 
round  the  apartment. 

After  his  father  was  gone,  Charles  sat  down  and  kept  his  eyes  on 
the  bird.  When  some  one  came  to  the  door  he  opened  and  shut 
it  very  quickly,  so  that  the  canary  might  not  escape.  But  it 
happened  that  some  street  idler  had  thrown  a  stone  against  the 
window  and  broken  one  of  the  top  squares.  This  had  not  been  per- 
ceived by  either  Charles  or  his  father.  The  bird,  in  its  flight  around 
the  room,  feeling  the  fresh  air,  flew  through  the  opening,  and,  in  a 
moment,  tasted  the  pleasure  of  freedom,  in  a  bright  sunshine  and 
fragrant  air. 

Charles  was  not  to  blame  for  the  bird's  escape ;  but  he  felt  sorry 
it  was  gone,  and  was  fearful  that  his  father  might  not  believe  his 
story,  or  else,  that  he  would  suspect  him  to  have  broken  the  window 
himself.  These  were  wrong  thoughts  ;  he  ought  to  have  had  con* 
hdence  enough  in  himself  to  simply  state  the  truth  to  his  father,  and 
not  doubt  his  belief  in  the  statement.  But,  like  many  other  boys,  he 
was  suspicious  that  his  father  would  not  take  his  word. 

So  he  set  out  to  recover  the  lost  bird.  There  was  a  net  in  the 
house  which  had  been  used  to  catch  birds,  and,  armed  with  this,  the 
boy  set  out  on  his  hopeless  expedition. 

He  soon  saw  the  canary  perched  upon  a  tree.  Very  softly  he 
approached  it,  and  began  to  climb  the  trunk;  just  as  he  was  in  the 
act  of  throwing  his  net  over  the  bird,  it  flew  away,  and,  crossing  the 
garden  wall,  perched  upon  the  branch  of  a  cherry  tree,  with  a  look 
which  seemed  to  say  "  Catch  me  if  you  can." 

Charlie  was  puzzled.  The  bird  was  in  the  garden.  He  had  been 
forbidden  to  enter  it  on  any  account ;  but  the  bird  was  there,  and 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  in  he  rushed  and  began  a  grand  pursuit 
after  the  lost  bird.  Getting  excited  in  his  efforts,  he  forgot  all  cau- 
tion, and  plunged  across  the  beds  and  among  the  flowers,  making 
great  havoc,  and  spoiling  many  choice  things,  which  his  father  had 
carefully  reared.  In  the  midst  of  this  hot  pursuit,  his  father  stood 
at  the  garden  gate,  and  shouted,  "  Charles  ! " 

Charles  halted,  looked  round,  blushed,  and  approached  his  father. 
"  Why  are  you  in  the  garden,  contrary  to  my  wishes,  Charles  ?" 


36  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

Charles  remembered  his  father's  command,  and  feeling  guilty, 
made  no  reply.     He  had  been  disobedient. 

Charlie's  disobedience  was  peculiar.  He  had  broken  one  wish  of 
his  father  through  a  desire  to  observe  another.  Anxious  to  save  the 
canary,  he  had  entered  the  garden.  He  ought  to  have  carried  his 
efforts  to  save  the  bird  up  to  the  garden  gate.  This,  the  order  to 
watch  the  bird  required;  there  he  should  have  stopped,  because  the 
other  command  said  "  On  no  account  go  into  the  garden." 

Little  reader,  learn  from  this  story  that  one  command  of  God  is 
not  to  be  kept  at  the  expense  of  another.  His  commands  all  har- 
monize, and  to  break  one  on  the  plea  of  keeping  another,  is  disobe- 
dience. 


The  Singular  Echo. 

I  ONCE  saw  a  story  of  Patrick,  who  heard  his  master  tell  of  a 
very  remarkable  echo  over  the  hill,  in  the  woods.  Patrick  had  a 
curiosity  to  try  the  echo  himself,  so  away  he  went.  The  account 
of  his  excursion  we  will  take  as  he  gave  it  to  his  master. 

"  I  jist  run  over  to  the  place  ye  was  speakin'  uv,  to  convarse  a  bit 
with  the  wo.iderful  creathur.     So  said  I,  '  Hillo  ' ' 

"  '  Hillo,  hillo,  hillo  !  you  noisy  rascal  I ' 

'  I  thocht  that  was  very  quare,  sir,  and  I  said  '  Hillo,'  again. 
Hillo  yourself,'  said  the  hecho,  '  you  begun  it  first.' 

"  *  What  are  ye  made  uv  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  Shut  your  mouth,'  said  the  hecho. 

"  So  said  I,  '  Ye  blathren  scoundrel,  if  ye  was  flesh,  like  an  hon- 
est man,  I'd  hammer  ye  till  the  mother  of  ye  wouldn't  know  her 
impident  son.' 

"  And  what  do  you  think  the  hecho  said  to  that,  sir  ? 

"  '  Scamper,  ye  baste  of  a  paddy,'  said  he,  '  or  if  I  eaten  you,  I'll 
break  ivery  bone  in  your  body.' 

"  An  it  hit  me  on  the  head  with  a  big  stone,  sir,  an  was  nigh 
Knocking  the  poor  brain  out  uv  me.  So  I  run  as  fast  as  iver  I 
could,  and  praised  be  all  the  saints,  I'm  here  to  tell  ye  uv  it  sir . '• 


THE   PEARL   FISHERY. 


«7 


aiif*-. 


The    Pearl  Fishery. 

Pen  s  are  found  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  some  of  con- 
«i:<Jeriilj.3  value  have  been  taken  from  the  Br'tish  waters ;  but  the 
Kast  Indian  pearls  are  those  which  are  chiefly  sought  in  commerce. 
A  handsome  necklace  of  pearls,  smaller  than  peas,  is  worth  from 
eight  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  whilst  one  of  beads,  not  larger  than 
peppsr-corns,  may  not  be  worth  more  than  one  hundred  dollars. 
The  king  of  Persia  has  a  pearl  valued  at  five  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars !     Pearls  from  the  seas  of  Ceylon  are  most  prized  in  England. 

There  are  two  seasons  of  pearl-fishing  in  the  East  Indies — the  first 
m  IVlarch  and  April,  the  second  in  August  and  September.  In  the 
opening  of  the  season  there  appear  sometimes  two  hundred  and  fifty 
barks  on  the  water,  containing  one  or  two  divers  each.  As  soon  as 
the  boats  arrive  at  the  place  where  the  fish  lie,  each  diver  ties  a 
large  stone  under  him,  to  serve  as  ballast  below ;  also  another  weight 
is  attached  to  one  foot,  whereby  he  is  soon  sunk  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea.  Each  diver  also  carries  down  with  him  a  large  net,  tied  to 
his  neck  by  a  long  cord,  one  end  of  which  is  retained  in  the  boat. 
Thus  the  poor  creature  plunges  sometimes  to  a  depth  of  sixty  feet. 
As  he  has  no  time  to  lose,  he  has  no  sooner  gained  the  bottom  than 
he  begins  to  run  from  side  to  side,  sometimes  on  the  sharp  points  of 
the  rocks,  tearing  off  the  oysters  he  meets  with,  and  cramming 
itiein  into  his  bag. 


88 


PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


There  is  light  enough  always  for  the  divers  distinctly  to  see  the 
shells  they  seek,  and,  to  their  consternation,  they  sometimes  per- 
ceive monstrous  fishes,  from  which  their  address  in  mudding  the 
water  will  not  always  save  them.  Of  all  the  perils  of-fishing  this  is 
one  of  the  chief  and  most  usual.  The  best  divers,  it  is  said,  will  re- 
main under  water  ten  minutes,  but  the  exertion,  pain,  and  danger 
of  this  effort  are  extreme.  When  they  are  to  rise  they  pull  the  rope, 
by  which  those  in  the  boats  draw  them  up  and  empty  the  net-bag, 
which  contains,  if  successful,  five  hundred,  or  perhaps  not  above  fifty, 
oysters.  These  are  laid  in  heaps  till  the  fish  perish  and  the  pearls 
drop  out  of  the  shells. 


The  Newfoundland  Dog. 


Aboriginal  in  the  country  of  which  he  bears  the  name,  this  kind  of 
dog  is  distinguished  for  docility  and  strength.  He  is  consequently 
very  useful  to  the  settlers  and  natives,  and  when  yoked  with  his  com- 
panions to  a  sledge,  they  will  cheerfully  draw  two  or  three  hundred 
weight  of  wood  for  several  miles.  It  is  even  said,  that  if  they  are 
accustomed  to  the  track,  they  do  not  require  a  driver;  and  that 
after  having  delivered  their  lading  they  return  to  their  master's  hut. 


THE    NEWFOUNDLAJNiJ    UO(x. 


39 


Winter  in  that  wild  country  is  intensely  cold,  and  snow  fields  extend 
wider  and  wader  as  the  storms  increase.  All  living  creatures  be- 
take themselves  to  deep  pine  forests,  or  hollows  in  the  rocks,  and 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  their  habits,  relate  that  they  are  well 
defended  from  the  cold.  In  some  the  fur  thickens;  in  others  the 
(leeces  rather  resemble  long,  soft,  and  curly  hair,  than  wool.  This 
peculiarity  is  very  obvious  in  the  Newfoundland  dog ;  his  coat  as- 
sumes  a  different  aspect  from  the  one  which  slightly  covered  him 
during  the  heat  of  summer,  and  becomes  extremely  thick  and 
shaggy,  resembling  that  of  a  bear. 

The  sagacity  of  the  Newfoundland  dog  is  equally  remarkable  a* 
Iris  fidelity  and  affection.  In  referring  to  the  former,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  speak  again  of  his  native  country,  where,  during  winter, 
:t  happens  not  unfrequently  that  the  roads  are  impassable  ;  and  such 
as  venture  to  even  a  short  distance  have  to  struggle  over  wastes  of 
snow^  and  bare  rocks,  with  frozen  sleet  driving  in  their  faces,  and  a 
7iercing  wind  chilling  them  to  the  heart.  Provisions  become  in 
consequence  often  scarce,  and  the  roads  being  impassable  for  week?, 
perhaps  months,  supplies  cannot  be  obtained  from  even  the  nearest 
fown.  When  this  occurs,  the  dogs  seem  to  enter  into  the  anxiety 
of  their  masters,  and  if  a  quantity  of  food  is  set  before  them,  they 
have  been  known  to  eat  sparingly,  and  to  secure  the  remainder  for 
another  day,  by  collecting  straw,  or  whatever  they  can  meet  with, 
and  covering  the  dish  which  holds  their  food.  But  this  sagacionrj 
act  is  not  at  all  superior  to  the  well-known  habit  of  the  economic 
mouse,  which  inhabits  the  coldest  regions  of  the  north. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  wrote  one  who  had  visited  Newfoundland,  and 
recorded  many  interesting  facts,  "  that  I  learned  some  useful  lessons 
when  observing  these  things,  and  I  wish  that  we  were  all  careful  to 
gather  from  the  animals  by  which  we  are  surrounded  such  instruc- 
tions as  they  are  designed  to  convey.  We  should  then  be  led  continu- 
ally to  praise  our  heavenly  Father  for  the  works  of  His  hand,  and 
should  be  convinced  that  in  this  vast  creation  nothing  has  been 
made  in  vain,  and  that  nothing  ought  to  be  overlooked.  The  ways 
of  the  ant  would  be  a  reproof  to  the  sluggard;  the  forethought  of 
the  Nevv^foundland  dog,  or  economic  mouse,  to  the  wasteful  and  im- 
provident ;   and  every  object  that  we  survey  would  be  like  a  page  in 


40  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANl. 

the  great  book,  which  is,  as  it  were,  spread  before  us,  to  display  the 
wisdom,  love,  and  power  of  our  Creator." 

Mrs.  Phelan  has  recqrded  a  very  interesting  fact,  perhaps  little 
!v'iown,  and  yet  serving  to  illustrate  the  affection  and  sagacity  of  the 
i: Newfoundland  dog. 

This  lady  mentions  a  noble  river  that  flowed  at  a  short  distance 
from  her  temporary  abode  in  the  far-off  west,  as  associated  with  the 
affecting  incident  I  am  going  to  relate.  It  rose  with  a  small  stream 
in  a  forest  of  pines  and  cedars,  and  being  increased  by  several  tribu- 
tary streams,  it  at  length  presented  a  broad  and  ample  surface,  capa 
\Ie  of  extensive  navigation,  and  flowed  majestically  onward  to  the 
licean. 

Beside  this  river  resided  a  gentleman  of  the  name  ot  Wilkins. 
He  kept  a  pleasure-boat,  and  often  used  to  row  his  family  and 
friends  to  considerable  distances,  enjoying  with  them  the  freshness 
of  the  water,  and  the  beautiful  scenery  that  adorned  its  banks  on 
either  side.  One  day,  having  invited  a  small  party  to  accompany 
him,  he  set  forth  with  his  wife  and  their  little  girl,  then  about  three 
years  old,  who  was  greatly  delighted  to  accompany  her  papa  in  his 
pretty  boat,  gliding  over  the  smooth  surface  of  that  lovely  river. 
'iMie  scenery  was  magnificent.  Thick  forests,  as  yet  unthinned  by 
liie  woodman's  hatchet,  and  lofty  rocks  that  arose  on  the  westeni 
^ide,  threw  a  deep  shadow  over  the  stream,  while  the  sun,  ridin<^ 
itmid  clouds  of  gold  and  purple,  tinged  the  rippling  current  with  n 
ilasshing  light.  So  beauteous  was  the  sc^ne,  that  those  who  beheld 
it  for  the  first  time  gazed  in  silence  on  the  continually  shifting 
>cenery  of  rock  and  river;  the  sparkling  of  the  waves,  and  the  glo- 
rious depth  beneath,  reflecting  the  gorgeous  clouds  that  floated 
across  the  heavens. 

Little  Ellen,  meanwhile,  too  young  to  share  the  feelings  of  the 
grown-up  people,  amused  herself  with  watching  the  water-lilies  that 
floated  by ;  and  a  fine  dog  of  the  Newfoundland  race,  trotted  com* 
placently  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  casting  a  look  occasionally  to- 
wards the  boat,  as  if  thinking  he  should  like  a  sail  himself;  for  the 
way  was  somewhat  long,  and  the  weather  sultry. 

Pleasantly  onward  went  the  boat,  and  while  the  sailing  party  ad- 
t-nired  in  silence  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  the  scene   little  Ellen. 


THE    NEWFOUNDLAND    DOG, 


41 


tliinkiiig  to  get  a  pretty  flower  which  seemed  to  shine  upon  the  dark 
waters,  stretched  out  her  hand,  and,  before  any  one  coukl  suspect 
what  she  was  about,  overreached  herself,  and  fell  with  a  sudden 
splash  into  the  river.  How  shall  I  describe  the  agony  of  her 
parents,  when  they  heard  the  sound,  and  saw  the  current  close  over 
their  beloved  child  !  The  mother,  in  her  terror,  and  scarcely  know- 
ing what  she  did,  would  have  thrown  herself  out  of  the  boat,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  being  able  to  save  her  little  one,  had  not  her  husband 
forcibly  held  her  back;  while  their  friends  tried  to  note  the  spot 
where  the  child  had  sunk,  in  order  to  direct  the  boat  towards  it,  in 
the  event  of  being  able  to  check  its  rapid  progress  on  the  swift  cur- 
rent of  the  river.  But  Ellen  did  not  rise  as  they  had  expected,  and 
faint  hope  was  there  of  being  able  to  find  her  in  that  deep,  dark 
water. 

Vain  was  the  help  of  man  at  that  dreadful  moment.  The  Lord, 
who  had  given  the  fair  child  to  delight  the  eyes  of  her  fond  parents, 
had  permitted  so  heavy  a  calamity  to  befall  them,  and  He  could  alone 
restore  her.  Prayer  was  doubtless  ofl!ered  in  the  extremity  of  their 
distress,  and  when  no  human  means  could  avail,  their  child  was 
suddenly  preserved. 

Nero  had  trotted  contentedly  along  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river, 
which  for  some  miles  was  free  from  the  rocks  that  rose  abruptly  on 
the  opposite  side.  He  could  not  have  gone  much  further,  because 
the  path  terminated,  being  abruptly  met  by  huge  masses  of  broken 
rocks,  which  did  not  admit  of  passing  over.  And  this  was  after- 
wards noticed  with  heartfelt  gratitude  by  the  parents,  as  a  proof  how 
mercifully  the  Lord  had  watched  over  them. 

No  one  took  any  notice  of  the  faithful  creature ;  the  river  was 
broad  and  ample,  at  least  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across,  and  the  boat 
kept  rather  to  the  western  side,  because  the  current,  which  ran  to- 
wards the  sea,  was  strongest  there,  and  carried  the  boat  swiftly  on  its 
way.  But  Nero,  though  not  observed,  kept  his  eye  upon  the  boat, 
and  watched  all  that  was  going  on.  He  saw  his  master's  child  fall 
over  the  side ;  and  he  heard  the  dreadful  cry  of  his  mistress,  and 
the  loud  voices  of  the  gentlemen,  as  they  called  one  to  the  other  to 
put  the  boat  about.  Guided  by  the  wonderful  perception  with  which 
his  Maker  had  endowed  him,  the  faithful   creature   plunged  into 


42 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


the  river,  and,  after  sv/imming  a  little  way,  dived  beneath  the  sur- 
face. 

Meanwhile,  the  greatest  confusion  prfivailed  in  the  boat.  The 
poor  mother  continued  to  call  upon  her  lost  child,  scarcely  knowing 
what  she  said  ;  for  the  shock  of  seeing  little  Ellen  fall  overboard  had 
bewildered  her.  Mr.  Wilkins  dared  not  leave  his  wife,  but  contin- 
ued holding  her  hands,  while,  with  his  head  turned  over  his  shoul- 
der, he  anxiously  gazed  on  the  part  to  which  his  friends  were  trying 
to  bring  round  the  boat.  The  current  was  then  very  powerful,  and 
bore  them  forward,  in  spite  of  their  endeavors  to  get  back,  or  even 
to  remain  stationary.  Small  hope,  indeed,  remained  of  ever  seeing 
the  poor  child  again ;  since  she  had  not  risen  to  the  surface,  and 
the  water  flowed  on  in  its  rapid,  unbroken  course. 

Suddenly  a  strange  noise  was  heard  on  the  side  of  the  boat  oppo- 
site to  the  one  whence  the  party  were  eagerly  looking,  and  some- 
thing large  seemed  to  be  splashing  through  the  water. 


"  See,  see,  the  dog,  the  child! "  joyfully  exclaimed  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen, who,  on  turning  round  when  he  heard  the  noise,  sudcienly 
observed  the  faithful  dog.  It  was  so  indeed.  The  brave,  the  faith- 
ful Nero  had  dived  to  the  bottom  of  that  deep  river,  and,  through  the 
mercy  and  compassion  of  God,  was  enabled  to  find  the  very  spot 
where  the  in^cent  child  had  settled  down  into  her  cold,  stranofe 


THE    NEWFOUNDLAND   DOG.  48 

cradle  of  weeds  and  slime.  Seizing  her  clothes,  and  holding  them 
fast  in  his  teeth,  he  brought  her  up  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  a 
very  little  distance  from  the  boat,  over  which  his  master  eagerly 
leant,  and,  with  looks  that  told  the  joy  of  his  honest  heart,  he  gavo 
the  little  Ellen  into  the  hands  of  her  astonished  father.  Then^ 
swimming  back  to  the  shore,  he  shook  the  water  from  his  long, 
shaggy  coat,  and  laid  himself  down,  panting,  to  recover  from  the 
fatigue  of  his  perilous  undertaking. 

The  delight  of  the  agitated  parents,  when  receiving  their  child 
again,  was  mingled  with  great  alarm  ;  for  Ellen  showed  no  signs  of 
life.  Her  little  face  looked  deadly  pale  ;  it  hung  on  her  shoulder ; 
her  pretty  flaxen  curls  were  straight  and  stiff,  and  streaming  with 
water,  which  ran  from  every  part  of  her  clothes.  The  white  frock 
and  little  tippet,  and  in  short  every  part  of  her  disordered  dress, 
showed  that  she  had  sunk  into  the  depth  of  the  dark  mud  which 
formed  the  bed  of  the  river.  Wonderful  it  seemed  that  the  dog  could 
so  instantly  have  found  his  master's  child,  and  so  readily  have 
brought  her  up  within  their  reach. 

But  though  Ellen  seemed  to  be  dead,  signs  of  life  soon  became 
apparent.  She  opened  her  blue  eyes,  and  breathed,  though  with 
difficulty,  and  very  speedily  did  the  boat  move  towards  the  landing- 
place,  whence  the  company  had  started,  in  order  to  obtain  immedi- 
ate assistance ;  but  even  before  they  reached  it,  the  tender  care  of 
the  parents  had  so  revived  the  little  girl,  that  she  could  both  smile 
and  faintly  speak.  Joyful,  indeed,  it  was,  when  her  voice,  even  in  m 
low  whisper,  pronounced  words  so  dear  to  them;  and  they  had  nn 
language  with  which  to  express  the  abounding  gladness  of  their 
hearts,  while,  holding  little  Ellen,  wrapped  in  a  warm  dry  cloak, 
they  watched  every  sign  of  returning  life.  Those  who  accompanied 
them  in  their  voyage  down  the  river,  shared  in  the  parents'  glad- 
ness ;  those  especially  who  had  children  of  their  own ;  and  little 
Ellen's  escape  from  a  dreadful  death  was  told  that  evening  to  many 
of  her  playfellows,  as  a  subject  both  of  caution  an'  abundant  thank- 
fulness. 


Praising  what  is  lost,  makes  the  remembrance  cear. 


u 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


The  Little  Errand  Runner. 

I  NEVER  saw  a  bairnie  yet 
An  errand  rin  mair  fleet  than  Mary, 
And  O  she  's  proud  the  praise  to  get, 
When  hame  she  trips  as  light 's  a  fairy. 
In  ae  wee  hand  the  change  she  grips, 
And  what  siie  's  sent  for  in  the  ither, 
Then  like  a  lintie  in  she  skips, 
Sae  happy  aye  to  please  her  mither. 

She  never  stops  wi'  bairns  to  play, 

But  a'  the  road  as  she  gaes  trottin'. 

Croons  to  hersel  what  she 's  to  say. 

For  fear  a  word  should  be  forgotten  ; 

And  then  as  clear  as  A  B  C 

The  message  tells,  without  a  blunder, 

And  like  a  little  eident  bee, 

She 's  hame  agai  ■  —  a  perfect  wonder. 


WINTER. 

It 's  no  for  hire  that  Mary  rins, 

For  what  ye  gi'e  she  '11  never  tease  ye ; 

The  best  reward  the  lassie  wins 

Is  just  the  pleasure  aye  to  please  ye. 

If  bairns  would  a'  example  tak', 

And  never  on  their  errands  tarry, 

What  happy  hames  they  aye  would  mak', 

Like  our  wee  errand-rinnin'  Mary  ! 


45 


Winter. 


Winter,  cold,  blustering,  yet  cheerful,  social  winter,  has  come 
at  last.  December  and  January,  which  are  the  two  pri'icipal,  and 
often  the  coldest  winter  months,  have  appeared  this  season  like 
early  spring  or  late  autumn,  rather  than  like  old  stern,  hoary  win- 
ter ;  and  with,  perhaps,  the  exception  of  a  few  cold  days,  there  has 
been  nothing  to  remind  us  to  the  contrary.  The  girls  had  no 
sleigh-rides,  the  boys  no  coasting  or  skating.     Violets  and  some 


4C  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

other  plants  actually  blossomed  during  the  reign  of  old  Janus ;  in 
short,  the  season  has  been  figuratively  a  "  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing." 
But  there  is  an  old  saying  that  "  Winter  never  rots  in  the  sky," 
and  the  month  of  February  has  proved  it  to  be  a  true  one,  for  it 
enveloped  us  suddenly  with  a  train  of  "  vapors,  and  clouds,  and 
storms,"  which  seemed  to  remind  us  that  we  must  not  expect  spring 
virds  at  present. 

There  is  no  season  subject  to  more  variation  in  its  temperature, 
Its  storms,  its  duties,  or  its  pleasures,  than  winter.  It  is  almost 
emphatically  a  season  of  recreation  and  rest;  a  time  for  closing  up 
the  business  of  the  old  year  and  making  preparations  for  the  new;  a 
time  for  instruction,  reading  and  reflection.  In  the  spring  every 
kind  of  out-door  employment  seems  to  revive.  The  farmer  casts  the 
seeds,  which  are  to  produce  the  means  of  his  sustenance,  into  the 
ground  with  hope.  In  summer  they  are  carefully  and  patiently 
cultivated,  and  in  the  autumn  the  fruits  of  his  labors  are  gathered 
home  and  safely  housed.  The  plough  is  then  laid  away,  hill-sides 
are  forsaken,  the  floclv'A  of  grazing  cattle  are  driven  home,  and 
everything  betokens  theifapproach  of  blustering  winds  and  drifting 
isnows.  Well,  no  matter  !  We  have  warm,  comfortable  homes, 
and  will  let  Jack  Frost  do  his  worst,  and  if  he  does  occasionally 
give  us  a  pretty  smart  pull  at  our  noses,  it  will  do  us  no  harm.  It 
is  only  the  drones  and  idlers  who  are  afraid  of  his  tricks,  for  Jack 
has  a  perfect  hatred  of  all  lazy  people.  If  you  want  to  cut  his 
acquaintance,  fly  round  lively,  and  the  old  fellow  will  not  trouble 
you  with  his  importunities. 

Hardly  anything  can  be  more  exciting  than  a  right  snapping  cold 
morning  after  a  heavy  fall  of  snow.  You  can  feel  it  when  you  get 
up,  and,  if  you  scrape  the  frost  from  your  chamber  window,  you  can 
almost  see  it  too.  The  smoke  from  the  neighboring  chimneys  rises 
up  a  great  distance,  like  a  huge  column  perfectly  straight,  and,  as 
the  sun  comes  peeping  over  the  horizon,  the  air  is  filled  with  minute 
particles  of  frost,  like  small  snow-flakes,  falling  to  the  ground,  and 
glittering  like  dew-drops  upon  a  summer's  morning.  But  you  will 
hardly  have  time  to  make  many  observations,  if  you  sleep  in  a  cold 
room,  which  you  always  should  do  if  you  are  well,  until  you  are 
dressed,  and  have  taken  yair  morning  exercise,  and  eaten  your 


WINTER.  47 

breakfast.  Then  you  may  put  on  your  warm  cap  and  mittens,  and 
venture  out  to  school.  You  will  find  the  roads  already  broken,  and 
sleigh-bells  sounding,  merrily  in  all  directions.  The  snow  screams 
under  your  feet  as  you  pass  along,  and  very  soon  your  breath  will 
begin  to  collect  in  white  frost  upon  your  tippet.  By-and-bye,  if  you 
live  near  a  rail-road,  you  will  see  the  morning  train  of  cars  approach 
ing,  headed  by  an  enormous  snow-plough,  and  two  or  three  engines 
puffing  and  blowing  along,  and  leaving  a  long  trail  of  white  steam 
behind.  It  is  indeed  a  noble  sight  to  see  the  train  creeping  like  a 
huge  serpent  among  the  hills,  moving  as  if  by  magic,  stopping  here 
and  there  to  set  down  or  take  up  the  travellers.  It  is  hard  to  realize, 
at  a  thought,  all  the  achievements  wrought  out  by  man  with  the  sim 
pie  though  mighty  power  of  boiling  water  !  But  we  shall  yet  sec 
greater  things  than  these. 

It  was  orte  of  my  favorite  amusements,  when  I  was  young,  to  fish 
in  the  winter  season,  through  the  ice,  and  I  was  quite  happy  when 
I  had  a  fish-line  in  my  hand,  watching  the  approach  of  my  victims. 
My  father  had  an  old  servant,  who  used  generally  to  attend  me  on 
these  excursions,  but  I  could  never  induce  him  to  take  the  line  in 
his  hands.  He  would  always  have  an  ol4  crooked  stick  for  a  pole 
to  fish  with.  Sometimes  he  would  attach  lines  to  a  number  of  these 
poles,  and  stick  them  in  the  bank  and  let  them  take  care  of  them- 


selves, only  visiting  them  occasionally  to  renew  the  baits.    He  would 
Btand  under  the  shelter  of  an  old  tree  by  the  side  of  the  pond,  in  a 


48  PICTOKIAL    MISCELLANY. 

rainy  day,  for  hours  together,  and  watch  his  lines ;  and,  as  he  kriew 
tolerably  well  the  best  time  to  take  certain  kinds  of  fish,  he  would 
frequently  come  home  with  a  nice  parcel.  Fishing  upon  the  ice  is 
rather  dangerous  for  boys,  unless  they  are  attended  by  an  older 
person. 

But  the  best  of  winter  is  the  long  evenings,  and  how  many  ways 
there  are  to  make  them  pass  away  pleasantly !  When  the  moon 
shines  brightly,  the  boys  find  great  delight  in  coasting  down  the 
long  hills,  and  when  a  large  party  is  collected,  it  is  really  an  inno- 
cent and  excellent  amusement.  How  well  I  remember  that  old 
sleigh,  which  the  boys  of  my  native  village  used  for  this  purpose, 
night  after  night. 

Skating  is  another  favorite  winter  amusement,  though  you  should 
never  go  out  upon  a  river  or  pond  to  skate  in  the  evening,  no  matter 
how  light  it  may  be.  It  is  far  better  to  forego  the  pleasures  of  a 
ngw  hours'  sport,  than  run  the  risk  of  being  drowned.  I  loved  to 
s'l^ate  myself,  when  young ;  but  one  fatal  night,  a  party  of  us  had 
gathered  upon  the  river,  and  presently  we  missed  two  of  our  com- 
panions. We  at  first  thought  they  had  gone  home,  but  such  was 
not  the  case.  They  had  both  been  drowned,  and  the  next  morning 
I  saw  their  bodies  drawn  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  river.  It  was  a 
sad  lesson  to  me,  though,  perhaps,  a  profitable  one,  for  I  have  not 
had  a  skate  on  my  feet  since.  Be  warned  before  it  is  too  late,  and 
never  go  upon  the  ice  at  night. 

After  all,  it  is  by  the  warm  and  comfortable  fireside  at  home, 
where  true  enjoyment  is  to  be  found.  With  some  useful  and 
instructive  book,  the  long  hours  will  fly  fast  away.  If  you  are  fond 
of  company,  invite  in  your  schoolmates,  and  with  some  merry  game 
while  away  the  time,  and  learn  to  value  and  appreciate  your  home. 
And  while  you  are  thus  surrounded  with  the  bountiful  gifts  of  Provi- 
dence and  all  that  can  make  you  wise  and  happy,  forget  not  those 
wanderers  through  the  world,  who  have  no  parents,  no  friends,  no 
home,  and  when  you  grow  older  be  forward  in  relieving  the  misery 
which  you  will  find  upon  every  side  around  you. 

P.  S.  I  had  written  thus  much  about  the  pleasures  of  winter, 
when,  in  going  along  the  side-walk  to  my  office,  the  other  morning, 
after  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  I  was  politely  reminded  that  I  had  for- 


AXECDOTK    OF    AX    ELKPIIANT. 


4!l 


svoitc M  ti'  III  MiiK.-M  all  the  characteristics  of  the  season.  An  ava- 
lanche of  .>no\v,  from  the  neijrhboring-  roof,  slid  off  in  a  body  upon 
mc ,  throwing  me  down  and  nearly  covering  me  up.  Several  boys, 
on  their  way  to  school,  seeing  me  in  danger,  rushed  forward,  and 
kindly  assisted  me  up  again.  I  was  not  injured,  however,  by  my 
adventure,  though  the  repetition  of  such  "  sport''  as  the  boys  called 
it.  is  not  especially  desired  ! 


Anecdote  of  an  Elephant. 

How  offensive  to  dumb  animals  is  tobacco !  A  few  years  since, 
.it  an  exhibition  of  wild  animals,  &c.,  a  man  gave  an  elephant  a  piece 
Df  tobacco.  The  elephant  took  it  in  his  trunk,  and  opening  his  spa- 
cious mouth,  deposited  the  morsel  on  his  tongue.  He  soon  discovered 
that  it  was  vile,  and  spit  it  out.  Some  time  after,  during  the  sports 
of  the  ring,  the  spectators  moved  around  so  that  the  tobacco  man 
was  brought  near  the  elephant  he  had  insulted.  With  one  blow  of 
his  trunk  the  noble  animal  laid  the  man  flat  on  the  ground.  After 
he  had  picked  himself  up,  he  was  comforted  by  the  sympathy  of  the. 
spectators,  expressed  in,  —  "  Good  enough  for  him  '" 


50  PICTORIAL    JUSCELLANT. 

The  Seven-Shilling  Piece. 

Ii  was  during  the  panic  of  1826,  that  a  gentleman  whom  we  shaii 
call  Mr.  Thompson,  was  seated,  with  something  of  a  melancholy 
look,  in  his  dreary  back  room,  watching  his  clerks  paying  away 
thousands  of  pounds  hourly.  Thompson  was  a  banker  of  excellent 
credit ;  there  existed  perhaps  in  the  city  of  London  no  safer  concern 
than  that  of  Messrs.  Thompson  &  Co.  ;  but  at  a  moment  such  as  1 
■speak  of  no  rational  reflection  was  admitted,  no  former  stability  was 
looked  to;  a  general  distrust  was  felt,  and  every  one  rushed  to  his 
banker's  to  withdraw  his  hoard,  fearful  that  the  next  instant  would 
be  too  late,  forgetting  entirely  that  this  step  was  that  of  all  others 
the  most  likely  to  insure  the  ruin  he  sought  to  avoid. 

But  to  return.  The  wealthy  citizen  sat  gloomily  watching  the 
outpouring  of  his  gold,  and  with  a  grim  smile  listening  to  the  clam- 
orous demands  on  his  cashier ;  for  although  he  felt  perfectly  easy 
nnd  secure  as  to  the  ultimate  strength  of  his  resources,  yet  he  could 
not  suppress  a  feeling  of  bitterness  as  he  saw  constituent  after  con- 
stituent rush  in,  and  those  whom  he  fondly  imagined  to  be  his  dear- 
est friends  eagerly  assisting  in  the  run  upon  his  strong  box. 

Presently  the  door  opened,  and  a  stranger  was  ushered  in,  who, 
after  gazing  for  a  moment  at  the  bewildered  banker,  coolly  drew  a 
chair,  and  abruptly  addressed  him  : 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  for  asking  a  strange  question ;  but  1 
am  a  plain  man,  and  like  to  come  straight  to  the  point." 

"  Well,  sir?  "  impatiently  interrupted  the  banker. 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  have  a  run  on  your  bank,  sir." 

"Well?" 

"  Is  it  true  ?  " 

"  Really,  sir,  I  must  decline  replying  to  your  very  extraordinary 
<|uery.  If,  however,  you  have  any  money  in  the  bank,  you  had  bet- 
ter at  once  draw  it  out ;  and  to  satisfy  yourself,  our  cashier  will  in- 
stantly pay  you,"  and  the  banker  rose,  as  a  hint  for  the  stranger  to 
withdraw. 

"Far  from  it,  sir;  I  have  not  one  sixpence  in  your  hands." 

"  Then  may  I  ask  what  is  your  business  here  ?  " 

"  I  wished  to  know  if  a  small  sum  would  aid  you  at  this  moment." 


THE    SEVEN-SHILLING   PIECE. 


51 


**  Why  do  you  ask  that  question  ?  " 

'♦  Because,  if  it  would,  I  would  gladly  pay  in  a  small  deposit.** 

The  money-dealer  stared. 

"  You  seem  surprised  ;  you  don't  know  my  person  or  my  motive , 
1  '11  at  once  exp.ain.  Do  you  recollect,  some  twenty  years  ago,  when 
you  resided  in  Essex  ?  " 

"Perfectly." 

"  Well,  then,  sir,  perhaps  you  have  not  forgotten  the  turnpike 
gate  through  which  you  passed  daily  ?  My  father  kept  that  gate, 
and  was  often  honored  with  a  few  minutes*  chat  with  you.  One 
Christmas  rtiorning  my  father  was  sick,  and  I  attended  the  toll-bar. 
On  that  day  you  passed  through,  and  I  opened  the  gate  for  you.  Do 
you  remember  it,  sir?" 

"  Not  I,  my  friend." 

«'No,  sir;  few  such  men  remember  their  kind  deeds,  but  those 
who  are  benefited  by  them  seldom  forget  them.  I  am,  perhaps 
prolix ;  however,  only  a  few  moments,  and  I  have  done." 

The  banker  began  to  feel  interested,  and  at  once  assented. 

"  Well,  sir,  as  I  said  before,  I  threw  open  the  gate  for  you,  and  as 
I  considered  myself  in  duty  bound,  I  wished  you  a  happy  Christmas. 
'  Thank  you,  my  lad,'  replied  you  — '  thank  you ;  and  the  same  to 
you ;  here  is  a  trifle  to  make  it  so ;'  and  you  threw  me  a  seven- 
shilling  piece.  It  was  the  first  money  I  ever  possessed  J  and  I  never 
shall  forget  my  joy  in  receiving  it,  or  your  kind  smile  in  bestowing 
it.  I  long  treasured  it,  and  as  I  grew  up,  added  a  little  to  it,  till  1 
was  able  to  rent  a  toll  myself.  You  left  that  part  of  the  country, 
and  I  lost  sight  of  you.  Yearly,  however,  I  had  been  getting  on  ; 
your  present  brought  fortune  with  it :  I  am  ngw  comparatively  rich, 
and  to  you  I  consider  I  owe  it  all.  So  this  morning,  hearing  that 
there  was  a  run  on  your  bank,  I  collected  all  my  capital,  and  have 
brought  it  to  lodge  with  you,  in  case  it  can  be  of  any  use  ;  here  it 
is  ;"  and  he  handed  a  bundle  of  bank  notes  to  the  agitated  Thomp- 
son. "  In  a  few  days  I  '11  call  again >"  and  snatching  up  his  hat,  the 
8tranger,  throwing  down  his  card,  walked  out  of  the  room. 

Thompson  undid  the  roll ;  it  contained  £30,000 !  The  stern-heart- 
ed banker —  for  all  bankers  must  be  stern  —  burst  into  tears.  The 
film  did  not  require  this  prop ;  but  the  motive  was  so  noble,  that  even 


52  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

a  millionaire  sobbed — he  could  not  help  it.     The  firm  is  still  one 
of  the  first  in  London. 

The  £30,000  of  the  turnpike  boy  is  now  grown  into  £200,000. 
le  has  well  disposed  of  her  gifts. 


Ella  Gray. 

A  WINNING  child,  whose  tender  eyes 

Looked  up  in  mine  with  glad  surprise ; 

While  round  my  neck  her  arms  were  thrown, 

Her  red  lips  laid  beside  my  own  ; 

She  whispered  in  my  bended  ear, 

In  tones  so  musically  clear  — 

I  know  why  I  love  you, 
You  look  like  my  mamma  ! 

And  closer  yet  she  clasped  my  side. 
As  though  the  world  held  nought  beside  , 
And  tears  brimmed  up  within  her  eyes  ; 
Her  voice  grew  tremulous  wiili  sighs. 
While  words  leaped  out  without  prepare. 
Yet  still  the  burden  of  them  are  — 

I  know  why  I  love  you, 
You  look  like  my  mamma  ! 

I  pressed  my  hand  upon  her  head. 
And  mutely  asked  a  blessing  shed  ; 
What  is  your  story,  darling?  tell ! 
Yet  still  these  words  her  lips  o'erfell ; 
As  though  the  heart  outpoured  itself, 
And  these  were  all  her  childish  wealth  — 
T  know  why  I  love  you, 
You  look  like  ray  mamma  ! 

I  strove  to  wile  her  from  her  tears. 
For  she  was  all  too  young  in  years 
To  know  a  grief.     "  What  is  youi  name^ 
And  who  's  mamma,  my  little  dame?" 
"  Lady,  my  name  is  Ella  Gray, 
Mamma  and  pa  are  gone  away  ; 
Mamma  to  heaven,  and  my  papa 
Hath  gone  a  soldier  to  the  war  ! 
There  's  only  Willie,  now,  and  1, 


EJ.LA   GRAY.  53 


And  sometimes,  lady,  when  I  cry, 

Grandmother  says  that,  by  and  by, 

If  I  am  good,  and  don't  complain. 

That  I  shall  see  mamma  again, 

And  by  her  side  forever  stay. 

And  she  will  never  go  away. 

Do  tell  me,  lady,  is  it  so  ? 

When  will  they  —  will  they  let  me  go  ?" 

**  But,  Ella,  think  !  there  's  only  ycu. 

And  what  will  little  Willie  do?" 

A  puzzled  look  o'erepread  her  face, 

Vet  in  a  moment  left  no  trace  ; 

*'  Willie  !  dear  lady,  in  the  sky. 

There  will  he  room  for  him  and  I ; 

And  my  mamma  will  be  so  glad, 

Tu  see  him  such  a  soncy  lad ; 

lier  arms  are  plenty  wide  enough, 

I  'rn  sure,  to  wrap  around  us  both  ! 

Then  tell  nje,  dearest  lady,  do  I 

When  will  they,  will  they  let  us  go? 

Before  tlie  summer  passed  away, 

I  heard  again  from  Ella  Gray  ; 

A  servant  with  a  message  came, 

The  little  Ella  breathed  my  name  ! 

I  flew  to  s<»<Mhe  the  dyinff  child, 

But  she  it  wms  my  griet  beguiled, 

For,  o[KJiiiiig  wide  her  clear  blue  eyes, 

And  glancing  upward  to  tlie  skies, 

Without  a  shade  of  pain  or  fear. 

She  whispered  softly  in  my  ear  — 

"  I  'm  going  home  —  I  'm  going  home  I 

Mamma  —  Mamma  —  I  come  —  I  come !" 

•*  I  come  — I  come !"  the  parting  breath 

Sobbed  through  the  lips,  then  still  in  death. 

I  held  the  casket  in  my  arms. 

But,  conqueror  over  death's  alarms. 

The  spirit,  freed  from  stain  or  blight. 

Sprang  upward  to  the  realms  of  light ; 

And  whispering  soft,  —  "I  come  —  I  come !  " 

In  pirer  air  had  found  its  home. 


54  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY 


How  the  Greeks  talked. 

We  have  hsre  some  of  the  expressions  which  the  Greeks  used  to 
make  use  of  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago,  when  they  wishecJ 
to  intimate  that  a  person  was  doing  an  absurd,  foolish,  or  improper 
act.     Some  of  them  remain  in  use  to  the  present  day. 

He  ploughs  the  air  ; 
He  washes  the  Ethiopian  ; 
He  measures  a  twig  ; 
He  opens  the  door  with  an  axe  ; 
He  deraands  tribute  of  the  dead  ; 

He  holds  the  serpent  by  the  tail ;  ' 

He  takes  the  bull  by  the  horns ; 
He  is  making  clothes  for  fishes  , 
He  is  teaching  an  old  woman  to  dance ; 
He  is  teaching  a  pig  to  play  on  a  flute  j 
■^    .  He  catches  the  wind  with  a  net ; 

He  changes  a  fly  into  an  elephant ; 

He  takes  the  spring  from  the  year  ; 

He  is  making  ropes  of  sand  ; 

He  sprinkles  incense  on  a  dunghill ; 

He  is  ploughing  a  rock  ; 

He  is  sowing  on  the  sand  ; 

He  takes  oil  to  extinguish  the  fire ; 

He  chastises  the  dead  ; 

He  seeks  water  in  the  sea ; 

He  puts  a  rope  to  the  eye  of  a  needle  : 

He  i?  washing  the  crow  ; 

He  draws  water  with  a  sieve ; 

He  gives  straw  to  his  dog,  and  bones  to  his  ass ; 

He  numbers  the  waves  ; 

He  paves  the  meadow ; 

He  paints  the  dead ; 

He  seeks  wool  on  an  ass  ; 

He  digs  the  well  at  the  river ; 

He  puts  a  hat  on  a  hen  ; 

He  runs  against  the  point  of  a  spear ; 

He  is  erecting  broken  ports ; 

He  fans  with  a  feather ; 


COLONEL   THORNDIKE,  55 

He  Strikes  with  a  straw  ; 

He  cleaves  the  clouds ; 

He  takes  a  spear  to  kill  a  fly  ; 

He  brings  his  machines  after  the  wai  is  overf 

He  washes  his  sheep  with  scalding  water ; 

He  speaks  of  things  more  ancient  than  chaos  ; 

He  roasts  snow  in  a  furnace  ; 

He  holds  a  looking-glass  to  a  mole  ;  4, 

He  is  teaching  iron  to  swim  ;  « 

He  is  building  a  bridge  over  the  sea 


Colonel  Thorndike, 

Colonel  Thosndtke,  of  Boston,  some  twenty-five  years  ago  was 
•xne  of  the  wealthiest  merchants  of  the  city.  We  heard  an  an- 
ecdote of  him  a  short  tinie  since,  related  by  a  gentleman  who  was 
fnrniliar  with  the  circumstances  at  the  time. 

A  poor  widow  woman  picked  up  a  roll  of  bank  bills  on  the  side- 
v/alk,  and  without  hesitation  went  immediately  to  the  crier  and  had 
notice  given.  The  money  was  identified  by  Col.  Thorndike.  He 
tiad  lost  from  his  vest  pocket  that  day  a  roll  of  bills  amounting  tn 
a  thousand  dollars. 

The  poor  woman  was  sent  for,  and  came  to  his  room.  After  re- 
ceiving from  her  the  full  amount  lost,  he  took  a  five  dollar  bill  and 
presented  it  to  her.  She  appeared  grateful  for  the  money  now  her 
own,  and  withdrew.  Just  as  she  had  got  into  the  street,  his  coach- 
rr.an,  who  was  a  witness  to  the  transaction,  and  had  heard  the  poor 
woman's  story  of  her  situation  in  the  world,  spoke  and  said  :  "  It 
seems  to  me,  sir,  you  ought  to  have  done  something  more  for  a  poor 
widow,  with  a  large  family  to  support  by  her  own  hands." 

These  few  words  of  his  servant,  in  whom  he  had  confidence, 
touched  the  heart  of  the  rich  man.  "  Call  her  back  instantly,"  said 
he.  She  returned.  *' Madam,"  said  he,  "  at  the  suggestion  of  my 
servant,  I  will  do  more  for  you.  Mr.  Towne  will  accompany  you 
home,  and  if  the  story  you  have  told  us  prove  true,  as  I  believe  it 
will,  he  has  authority  to  help  you,  and  I  will  be  responsible  for  the 
expense  of  educating  your  children." 


r)6 


I'ICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


The  grateful  widow  was  overwhelmed  with  emotion.  She  wa.» 
attended  to  her  home  by  the  benevolent  coac.iman.  Every  word 
^he  had  spoken  proved  true.  "  For  years,"  says  our  informant,  '"  i 
o.'ien  heard  that  man  speak  of  this  family,  and  of  the  good  which  his 
master's  bounty  here  did,  so  generously  bestowed." 


^.^c^'W^ 


Do  you  attend  School  ? 

I  WAS  thinking  the  other  day  how  many  of  my  young  friends 
probably  attended  school  this  winter.  Most  of  you  no  doubt  enjoy 
the  opportunities,  so  liberally  offered  in  our  land,  for  storing  your 
minds  early  with  knowledge,  and  acquiring  the  means  of  going 
through  life  with  pleasure  to  yourselves  and  p-ofit  to  those  around 
you.      But  do  you  value  those  privileges  as  yon  ought  to  ?     Do  you 


DO  YOU  atti::nd  bCHooL  ?  57 

improve  your  time  as  though  it  were,  as  it  really  is,  passing  away? 
Ah  !  that  is,  after  all,  the  momentous  question.  You  undoubtedly 
look  upon  the  matter  very  much  as  your  fathers  and  mothers, 
grandfathers  and  grandmothers,  did ;  as  being  at  times  a  very 
irksome  and  unpleasant  task,  to  sit  still  for  hours  together,  and  add 
up  long  columns  of  figures,  and  puzzle  your  heads  about  a  "  hard 
sum."  You  are,  perhaps,  thinking  all  the  while  of  that  smooth, 
glare  piece  of  ice,  that  you  passed  in  coming  to  school,  and  that 
your  skates  arc  in  first-rate  order.  AVell,  this  is  all  very  natural. 
The  fact  is,  you  cannot  see  the  full  value  of  knowledge  until  you 
have  become  men  and  women,  and  then  it  is  too  late  to  recover  lost 
lime.  No  regrets,  however  sincere,  can  call  back  a  single  misspent 
day.  Your  time  will  then  be  occupied  with  the  concerns  of  life  in 
a  great  degree,  and  you  will  then  see,  as  all  grown  people  see,  that 
youth  is  the  time  for  improvement. 

Tom  Tiger  told  me  a  very  interesting  anecdote  the  other  night, 
and  as  it  illustrates  in  a  degree  what  I  want  to  impress  on  your 
niinds,  I  will  relate  it.  Two  travellers  once  met  in  front  of  a  tavern 
in  England,  before  which  there  hung  an  enormous  pictured  sign, 
upon  each  side  of  which  there  was  a  difl^erent  design.  "  Come," 
says  one,  "  let  us  go  into  *  The  Lion,'  and  have  some  ale."  *'  Very 
well,"  says  the  other,  "  I  will  drink  with  you,  but  you  are  very  much 
mistaken  in  calling  it  '  The  Lion,'  for  it  is  a  unicorn  that  is  painted 
on  the  sign."  "  No,"  says  the  first,  "  it  is  a  lion."  Well,  one 
word  brought  on  another,  until  they  finally  fell  to  blows,  and  it  was 
not  until  each  had  given  the  other  a  good  drubbing,  that  the  land- 
lord succeeded  in  separating  them.  Upon  learning  the  cause  of 
their  quarrel,  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  (as  well  he  might,)  and 
informed  them  that  there  was  a  lion  on  one  side  and  a  unicorn  on 
the  other.  Now,  as  you  are  young,  you  cannot  see  but  one  side  of 
the  sign.  I  am  old.  I  have  seen  both  sides.  When  I  was  young, 
I  often  felt  it  very  irksome  to  study,  and  I  have  wondered  what  the 
use  of  it  could  be.  I  did  study,  however,  because  those  who  were 
older  than  myse.f  advised  me  to;  or,  in  other  words,  because  my 
father  told  me  what  there  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  sign.  Now 
I  see  the  use  of  knowledge,  and  if  I  can  but  persuade  you  to  be  dil- 
igent while  you  are  young,  I  shr.  1  be  sure  of  receiving  your  thanks 


58 


PICTOKIAL    MISCELLANY. 


when  you  grow  up.  You  cannot  see  the  truth  of  what  I  say  nuw, 
but  you  will  see  it  before  many  years.  Although  your  eyes  behold 
a  roaring  lion  pictured  out  as  plain  as  can  be,  yet  by-and-by 
things  will  change,  and  there  will  be  a  unicorn  there. 

While  I  am  writing,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  can  call  to  mind  almost 
perfectly  the  old  school-house  where  I  have  spent  many  a  long  day. 


It  vi'ss  long  since  torn  down.     It  was  an  old  barn  of  a  thing,  witn 
Dfirs  timbers  overhead  and  a  rickety  floor  underneath. 

I  can  see  ihe  burly,  though  good-natured  master,  with  his  iron 


MY   ©JJANDMOTOER. 


5^ 


spectacles,  as  he  used  to  hold  his  rodiover  the  tardy  sch  >oI-boys. 
He  rarely  punished,  but  his  frown  was  correction  enough.  If  per- 
chance the  offence  was  repeated,  the  paper  fools-cap  would  succeed. 
How  greatly  school-houses  and  school-teachers  have  changed  since 
then,  I  need  not  tell  you.  If  opportunities  such  as  young  people 
now  have  for  improvement  are  neglected,  I  envy  not  the  reflections 
of  the  individuals  when  they  are  older. 


K^f'*^^ 


My.  Grandmother. 

Oh  r  let  me,  dear  Grandmother,  stand  by  yoiir  kno« 

How  calm  and  how  happy  you  look  !  — 
One  hand  on  your  crutch  is  reclining,  I  see, 

And  the  other  is  laid  :n  a  book  ; 
That  book  is  the  Bible  —  you  trust  in  its  truth,. 

You  fervently  dwell  on  its  page  ; 
It  always,  I  know^  was  the  guide  of  your  you,tU, 

And  now 't  is  the  staff  of  youi:  nije. 


60  PICTOUIAL    MISCELLANY. 

To  train  my  dear  mother  you  early  beg^an 

In  the  pal[i  that  she  afterwards  trod  ; 
She  learned  from  the  Bible  her  dwity  to  man 

And  also  her  duty  to  God  : 
It  ever  seems  ready  her  spirit  lo  soothe, 

p]ver  able  her  thoughts  to  engage  ; 
lUust  that  I  aisci  may  love  it  in  youth. 

And  eoniiniie  to  love  it  in  age. 

Vou  are  always,  dear  Grandmother,  pleased  and  conteii 

And  never  s'-vere  or  unkind  ; 
You  are  thuuktul  to  (Jod  for  the  good  he  has  sent, 

And  in  grief  yon  are  nieelc  and  resigned  : 
Your  peace  is  obtained  from  that  volume  of  truth  — 

May  it  ever  your  trials  assuage  ! 
And,  oh  !  may  the  hopes  that  it  gave  you  in  youtli, 

Grow  bricTJiter  and  brin-hter  in  ajje  I 


The  Lost  Child. 

BY    A.    13.    R. 


Anna  Hudson  was  a  little  girl  seven  years  of  age,  and  the  daugh 
(er  of  one  of  the  early  settlers  of  New  England.  The  little  settlemen 
where  her  father  resided  was  called  by  the  name  of  Plainfield,  anc 
consisted  &f  perhaps  a  dozen  log  houses.  A  small  brook  ran  through 
it,  and  after  winding  around  among  the  forests,  for  some  five  miles, 
entered  into  a  broad  and  handsome  river.  Its  banks  were  covered 
with  lofty  oaks  and  pines,  with  but  little  underbrush,  and  presented 
o.  wild  and  romantic  view  to  the  eye  of  the  beholder. 

Hut  to  the  subject  of  our  story.  As  I  have  said,  Anna  was  about 
i?even  years  'A  age.  She  had  lived  in  America,  with  her  parents 
only  about  a  year,  for  they  forr:7orly  resided  in  England ;  but  on  ac- 
count of  the  religious  persecution  they  removed  to  America. 

At  the  time  they  left  England,  one  of  Anna's  uncles  presented 
her  with  a  young  Newfoundland  dog.  She  was  very  much  pleased 
with  the  gift,  and  became  quite  fond  of  Carlo,  (for  she  called  him  by 


THE    LOST    CHILD, 


61 


that  name.)  As  she  was  very  kind  and  affectionate  towards  him, 
he  soon  became  ra;uch  attached  to  his  little  mistress,  and  followed 
her  wherever  she  went. 

In  course  of  time  he  became  a  large  dog  ;  and  as  he  grew  older, 
hi»  affection  for  her  did  not  diminish,  but  increased.  As  she  had 
no  brother  or  sister,  he  was  her  constant  companion,  the  sharer  of 
all  her  sports ;  and,  except  her  parents,  the  dearest  object  of  her  af- 
fections. 

One  pleasant  day  in  the  month  of  August,  while  Mr.  Hudson  was 
absent  on  business,  at  a  settlement  about  ten  miles  distant,  accompa- 
nied by  Carlo,  Anna  asked  leave  of  her  mother  to  go  into  the  woods, 
to  gather  some  berries.  As  she  Avas  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
the  forest,  within  half  a  mile  of  the  house,  her  mother  granted  per- 
mission, and  taking  her  basket  on  her  arm,  she  departed.  She  soon 
arrived  at  a  place  a  short  distance  from  the  brook,  where  she  found 
some  berries,  but  not  so  many  as  she  expected  ;  and  after  gathering 
a  few,  she  went  in  search  of  a  place  where  they  were  more  plenti- 
ful. But  she  was  unsuccessful,  and  in  a  few  moments  went  in 
search  for  more. 

Thus  she  went  on  for  some  time,  not  reflecting  that  she  was  in 
danger  of  losing  her  way.  At  length  she  arrived  at  a  place 
where  berries  grew  in  abundance,  and  she  soon  filled  her  basket, 
and  prepared  to  start  for  home.  But  she  found,  to  her  great  sur- 
prise, that  she  was  utterly  at  a  loss  what  course  to  take.  For  a  long 
time  she  remained  on  the  spot,  and  then  started  in  the  direction 
which  she  thought  was  most  likely  to  lead  her  home.  But  she  soon 
became  convinced  that  she  had  taken  the  wrong  course,  and  so  she 
changed  her  direction. 

Thus  she  \vandered  on  for  several  hours,  and  at  length  became 
perfectly  bewildered.  The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  threw  their 
light  upon  the  old  gray  forest,  when  she  arrived,  after  all  her  wan- 
derings, at  the  bank  of  the  river  we  have  mentioned,  about  two  miles 
below  the  place  where  the  brook  emptied  into  it. 

As  she  was  very  hungry  and  much  exhausted,  she  made  a  meal  oi 
the- berries  which  she  had  gathered,  and  finding  the  hollow  trunk  of  a 
hemlock  tree  near  by,  she  crept  into  it  and  soon  fell  asleep.  The  gray 
dawn  of  a  summer's  morning  had  just  begun  to  tinge  the  eastern 


62  PICTORIAL    M1SGELI.ANY. 

sky,  when  she  awoke,  and  after  allaying  her  thirst  from  the  rivef> 
she  looked  around  to  find  some  berries  for  her  breakfast.  She  soon 
found  enough  to  satisfy  her  hunger,  and  then,  seating  herself  on  the 
Irunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  which  projected  over  the  river's  bank,  she 
gave  herself  up  to  reflection.  At  length  she  determined  to  try  once 
more,  if  she  could  find  the  way  to  her  home,  and  so  she  arose  and 
started  in  the  direction  which  she  thought  would  lead  her  there. 
For  many  long  hours  she  wandered  on  throagh  the  forest,  and  when 
nig'ht  approached  she  found  herself,  weary  and  exhausted,  at  the 
place  from  which  she  had  started  in  the  morning,  and  despaired  of 
ever  seeing  her  home  again. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  her  courage  should  so  soon  forsake  her 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  she  was  only  seven  years  of  uge, 
and  had  become  very  weary  during  the  day. 

Evening  soon  came  on,  ar»d  Anna  sought  her  shelter  in  the  hol» 
low  tree,  to  rest,  but  not  to  sleep.  For  a  long  time  she  mused  4tn 
her  situation.  She  thought  of  her  parents  and  her  happy  home, 
which  was  now  rendered  desolate  by  her  absence,  and  tears  filled  her 
dark  blue  eyes,  as  she  reflected  that  she  might  never  again  behold 
that  loved  retreat.  She  thought  of  the  anguish  which  w^ould  rend  her 
fond  parents'  hearts,  on  her  account,  and  she  knew  that  they  would 
spend  many  wretched  hours  thinking  of  her.  Thus  she  mused  for 
a  long  time,  when  at  length  she  chanced  to  gaze  upward,  and  be- 
hold the  scenes  that  there  met  her  eyes.  The  silvery  orb  of  night 
shone  with  her  pure  and  holy  light,  ever  and  anon  darting  behind  the 
vapory  clouds,  and  then  reappearing  in  view,  as  if  her  sight  was  too 
pure  and  lovely  a  thing  for  earth.  "  The  stars  sparkled  like  dia- 
monds in  the  blue  vault  of  heaven,"  and  the  scene  was  one  well 
adapted  to  soothe  and  quiet  the  soul.  The  mild  and  lovely  sceiie 
shed  a  gentle  and  benign  influence  over  the  mind  of  our  heroine,, 
and  she  soon  fell  asleep.  Meanwhile  we  will  leave  her,  and  go  to 
see  what  has  become  of  her  parents. 

Mr.  Hudson  arrived  at  home  on  the  same  day  that  Anna  was  lost, 
and  her  parents  were  much  alarmed  because  she  did  not  return 
home.  Her  father,  with  two  or  three  of  his  neighbors,  procured 
lanterns,  and  searched  for  her  until  nearly  midnight,  but  could  dis- 
cover no  traces  of  her      They  then  returned  home  very  much  ex- 


THE    LOST    CHILD.  63 

hausted,  but  early  the  next  morning  the  search  was  renewed;  and 
fxlmost  every  male,  together  with  some  of  the  hardy  females  of  the 
settlement,  engaged  in  it.  They  div  ded  themselves  into  companies 
of  three  or  four,  and  searched  the  forest  for  many  miles,  leaving  no 
bush  unexamined  which  was  large  enough  to  hide  her. 

They  shouted  her  name  at  every  step  ;  but  no  reply  greeted  their 
ears.  They  searched  until  the  approaching  darkness  warned  them 
to  return  to  their  homes,  but  without  success.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hud- 
son obtained  no  sleep  that  night,  for  they  feared  that  Anna  was 
already  dead,  and  they  were  firmly  convinced  that  if  she  was  still 
alive,  she  could  not  long  survive,  unless  she  was  speedily  rescued 
from  her  perilous  situation.  Their  hearts  were  racked  with  anxiety, 
and  they  felt  that  the  suspense  in  which  they  were  kept  was  more 
dreadful  than  the  news  of  her  death  would  have  been.  But  wa: 
their  child  still  alive  ?  They  surmised  and  doubted  as  to  her  fate 
until  they  were  wearied,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  and  they  felt  that  thei 
burden  was  indeed  greater  than  they  could  bear.  Their  child,  the 
centre  of  all  their  hopes,  the  source  of  their  dearest  joys,  and  the 
dearest  object  of  their  affections,  their  only  child,  her  for  whom  they 
had  labored  so  long,  whom  they  had  watched  over  in  infancy  and 
childhood,  in  sickness  and  health,  was  lost  I  and  had  perhaps  fallen 
a  prey  to  some  wild  beast ! 

With  such  thoughts  and  conjectures  as  these,  they  occupied  the 
long  hours  of  night,  and  at  the  first  approach  of  dawn  they  arose, 
and' ate  their  morning  meal,  for  they  wished  to  lose  no  time,  as  every 
moment  was  now  precious. 

During  that  day  all  the  people  of  the  settlement,  both  male  and 
female,  who  were  able  to  render  any  assistance,  were  engaged  in 
searching  the  forests,  but  without  success,  for  they  supposed  it  im- 
possible for  her  to  wander  as  far  as  she  really  had.  All  this  time 
Carlo  had  manifested  great  grief  at  the  absence  of  his  young  mis- 
tress, and  was  constantly  whining  and  running  from  place  to  place, 
that  he  might  discover  her.  The  afternoon  of  the  third  day  he  went 
a  great  distance  into  the  forest,  and  very  singularly  discovered  her 
sitting  on  the  stem  of  the  tree  of  which  we  have  spoken,  almost 
worn  out  with  hunger  and  fatigue.  The  sufferings  she  had  endured 
on  account  of  her  want  of  food,  (for  this  day  she  had  been  so  un- 


64  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

fortunate  that  she  had  procured  but  few  berries,)  and  the  anxiety 
she  had  suffered  thinking  of  her  parents  and  home,  had  greatly 
preyed  upon  her  mind,  and  her  nerves  were  very  much  excited. 

As  soon  as  Carlo  discovered  her  he  was  very  much  pleased,  and 
to  testify  his  joy  he  uttered  a  lond  bark.  Owing  to  the  excited  state 
^)f  her  nerves,  she  suddenly  started  on  hearing  him,  lost  her  balance, 
and  fell  into  the  river.  Carlo  saw  her  fall,  and  with  one  bound 
sprang  into  the  water,  seized  her  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  her  upon 
the  shore  All  this  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  and  she  experienced 
no  injury  except  a  thorough  wetting  in  river  water.  When  she  sav/ 
the  innocent  cause  of  her  alarm,  she  felt  that  she  had  indeed  found 
her  friend  ;  and  never  was  there  a  happier  meeting  between  one  of 
the  canine  and  one  of  the  human  species.  Carlo  appeared  as  mucli 
pleased  as  herself,  and  ran  around  her,  frisking  his  tail  to  testify  his 
joy  at  finding  his  mistress. 

Anna  soon  reflected  that  he  probably  k-new  the  way  home,  and 
that  if  she  followed  him  he  would  be  likely  to  load  her  there.  On 
his  part,  he  seemed  to  imderstand  her  wishes,  and  would  start  off  a 
little  distance  and  then  return,  and  gaze  up  into  her  face  a;?  if  to 
say,  "  Follow  me,  and  I  will  soon  lead  you  home."  Although  she 
was  very  weary  and  weak,  she  determined  to  follow  him,  as  the  last 
chance  of  reaching  home.  He  appeared  very  much  pleased  at  this, 
and  went  forward,  selecting  the  best  path  for  her  that  he  could  find 
in  the  trackless  forest. 

As  she  was  very  weak  she  could  make  but  slow  progress,  and  as 
it  was  a  long  distance  for  her  to  travel,  she  became  very  weary  ; 
but  she  urged  herself  onward,  for  she  felt  that  life  or  death  depended 
on  her  efforts.  Thus  they  proceeded  for  several  miles,  and  at  length 
they  emerged  from  the  forest  in  sight  of  her  father's  residence,  just 
as  the  sun  had  set.  She  proceeded  on  by  the  side  of  Carlo  a  short 
distance,  but  her  weary  limbs  refused  to  do  their  service,  blindness 
came  over  her,  and  she  sunk  senseless  to  the  earth.  For  a  moment 
Carlo  stood  over  her  licking  her  face,  as  if  to  recall  her ;  but  finding 
he  could  not,  he  proceeded  immediately  to  the  house,  where  he  found 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hudson,  who  had  just  returned  from  searching  for 
Anna,  and  had  given  up  all  hopes  of  ever  seeing  her  alive. 

He  soon  succeeded  in  attracting  their  attention,  and  as  he  was  evi- 


•  THE  SHEPHERDS  OF  LES  BAS  LANDES.  65 

dentiy  endeavoring  to  persuade  them  to  follow  him,  a  new  ray  of 
hope  sprang  up  in  their  hearts.  Mr.  Hudson  immediately  followed 
him,  hoping,  but  hardly  daring  to  expect,  that  he  might  find  his 
child.  Carlo  soon  led  him  to  the  spot,  and  he  discovered  Anna  ly- 
ing upon  the  ground,  and  concluded  that  she  had  fainted,  for  he  saw 
signs  of  life.  But  how  changed  was  her  appearance  !  The  rosy 
hue  of  her  cheek  had  left  it,  and  it  was  pale  and  pallid.  Her  laugh- 
ing blue  eyes  were  dull  and  sunken ;  her  jet-black  hair  was  mat- 
ted and  covered  with  burs.  Her  frock  had  been  torn  by  the  brush, 
and  she  indeed  presented  a  pitiful  aspect  to  the  sight  of  her  father. 
But  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  to  the  house,  and  laid 
her  upon  a  bed,  feeling  that  the  lost  was  indeed  found.  The  proper 
restoratives  were  applied,  and  her  parents  soon  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  her  recover  from  the  fainting  fit ;  but  it  was  many  weeks 
ere  she  recovered  from  the  effects  of  her  excitement  and  exposure. 
She  ever  after  was  an  inseparable  friend  of  Carlo,  "  for,"  said  she, 
"  he  has  once  saved  my  life  ;  and  ought  I  not  to  treat  him  kindly 
to  repay  him  for  it  ?  " 

The  story  of  Anna  and  her  faithful  dog  has  been  handed  down 
to  her  descendants,  and  even  now  it  is  often  rehearsed  by  them,  to 
some  little  group  of  auditors. 


The  Shepherds  of  Les  Bas  Landes. 

In  the  south-western  part  of  France,  bounded  on  the  west  by  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  and  on  the  south  by  the  Pyrenees,  a  chain  of  high 
mountains  separating  France  from  Spain,  there  is  a  large  barren  tract 
of  land,  that,  from  the  number  of  its  heaths,  has  conferred  the  title 
of  Les  Landes  on  the  department  to  which  it  belongs.  Being  gener- 
ally a  level  plain,  intermixed  with  shrubs  and  swamps,  it  is  naturally 
described  as  being  the  most  desolate  and  dreary  portion  of  France 
A  lew  spots,  like  the  oases  of  the  African  deserts,  are  to  be  found  at 
long  intervals  of  space,  and  here  only  can  rye  be  grown,  the  rest 
being  a  dreary  waste,  dotted  with  heath,  firs,  or  cork  trees.  The 
5 


on 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLA.NT. 


The  Shepherd  on  the  VValcb. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  OP  LES  BAS  LANDES.  67 

climate  is  ve.y  unhealthy,  the  heat  in  summer  bein^  scorching,  and 
in  winter  the  marshes  are  enveloped  in  dense  fogs.  From  the 
level  nature  of  the  land,  and  from  the  fact  that  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  it  is  under  water,  the  shepherds  have  recourse  to  stilts,  and 
the  dexterity  which  is  manifested  in  their  management  has  often 
elicited  wonder  and  admiration  from  the  passing  traveller,  who 
rarely  meets  vvith  many  traces  of  civilization.  You  will  see  a  pic- 
ture of  one  of  these  shepherds  on  the  preceding  page.  There 
he  sits  from  morning  till  night,  knitting  away,  and  watching 
his  flock.  The  shepherds  in  these  parts  are  very  careful  of  their 
flocks,  whose  docility  is  remarkable.  Not  less  so  is  the  good  under- 
standing between  the  sheep  and  the  dogs.  The  celerity  with  which 
the  shepherds  draw  their  flocks  around  them  is  not  more  astonish- 
ing than  the  process  by  which  they  effect  it  is  simple  and  beautiful. 
If  they  are  at  no  great  distance  from  him,  he  gives  a  peculiar  whis- 
tle, and  they  leave  off  feeding,  and  obey  the  call ;  if  they  are  afar 
off  and  scattered,  he  utters  a  shrill  cry,  and  instantly  the  flocks  are 
seen  leaping  over  the  swamps,  and  scampering  towards  him.  "When 
they  have  mustered  around  him,  the  shepherd  sets  off  on  his  return 
to  the  cabin,  or  resting  place  he  has  secured,  and  the  flock  follow 
behind,  like  so  many  well-trained  hounds.  Their  fine  lookino-doirs, 
a  couple  of  which  are  generally  attached  to  each  flock,  have  nobler 
duties  to  perform  than  that  of  chasing  the  animals  together,  and 
biting  the  legs  of  stragglers.  To  their  protection  is  confided  the 
(lock  from  the  predatory  expeditions  of  wolves  and  bears,  against 
whose  approach  they  are  continually  on  the  watch,  and  to  whom 
they  at  once  offer  battle.  So  well  aware  are  the  sheep  of  the 
fatherly  care  of  these  dogs,  and  that  they  themselves  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  them,  that  they  crowd  around  them  as  if  they  really 
sought  their  protection,  and  dogs  and  sheep  may  be  seen  resting 
together  in  perfect  harmony.  Thus  habituated  to  scenes  of  such 
gentleness  and  magnanimity,  the  shepherds  themselves  arq  brave, 
generous,  and  humane,  and  though,  as  may  be  imagined,  for  the 
most  part  plunged  in  the  deepest  ignorance,  are  highly  sensitive 
among  themselves  to  the  slightest  dereliction  from  the  strict  paths 
tf  true  morality. 


68  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Forrester's  Evenings  at  Home. 

THE    ATMOSPHERL. 

i\r,  F.  Well,  my  young  friends,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  assembled 
so  early.  When  I  promised  to  spend  one  evening  in  each  month  in 
familiar  conversations  upon  useful  topics,  I  did  not  think  you  would 
manifest  so  much  interest  in  our  meetings.  But  we  must  not  be 
selfish  in  our  search  after  knowledge.  I  have  a  very  great  number 
of  boys  and  girls  who  claim  to  be  my  friends,  and  who  cannot  be 
present  here  to-night.     How  shall  we  manage  ? 

George  Lincoln.     Publish   our  proceedings  in  your  Magazine. 

M.  F.     A  good  thought,  George.     Will  you  all  agree  to  it  ? 

AIL     Yes,  yes,  yes,  do. 

M.  F.  But  then  another  difficulty  arises.  We  have  no  report- 
er. However,  I  will  try  to  do  that.  So,  Miss  Flora,  call  in  your 
father  and  mother,  and  we  will  begin.  Bat  what  shall  be  our  sub- 
ject for  to-night  ? 

Henrij  Lincoln.  As  we  do  not  know  exactly  what  course  you 
propose  taking,  we  have  decided  to  have  you  choose  a  subject  to- 
night. 

M.  F.  Well,  let  me  see.  As  I  got  out  of  the  cars  to-night  a 
blast  ot  wind  blew  my  hat  off,  and  carried  it  off  several  rods.  A  lit- 
tle girl  seeing  my  feat  running  away,  ran  and  caught  it  for  me.  I 
propose  saying  something  to-night  about  the  Atmosphere. 

All.     Agreed. 

M.  F.  We  are  too  apt  to  overlook  the  wonders  of  things  which 
are  before  us  every  day  ;  but  we  shall  see  very  shortly  that  nothing 
is  too  insignificant  for  notice.  The  Earth,  upon  which  we  live,  is 
surrounded  with  a  gaseous  body,  called  the  atmosphere,  or  air.  It 
is  com])Osed  of  7S  parts  nitrogen,  20  parts  oxygen,  1  part  of 
caibon,andI  part  of  an  aqueous  vapor.  Wave  your  hand  back 
and  forth,  and  you  can  feel  the  atmosphere,  though  you  cannot  see  it. 
When  it  is  put  in  motion  it  is  called  wind.  It  was  the  atmosphere 
in  motion  that  blew  my  hat  off.  It  is  that  which  enables  I  enry  to 
(ly  his  kite,  which  drives  the  wind-mill  and  sails  the  ships. 

Henry.     How  far  does  the  atmosphere  extend  upwards  ? 


fourester's  evenings  at  homl  69 

M.  F.  The  precise  point  can  never  be  known.  It  is  certain 
that  by  far  the  largest  portion  is  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  Earth's 
surface,  As  we  ascend,  the  air  becomes  thinner,  and  thinner;  and 
by  various  experiments  it  is  supposed  that  at  about  forty-five  miles 
from  the  surface  of  the  earth  the  atmosphere  ceases.  People  who  as- 
cend high  mountains,  or  who  go  up  in  balloons,  tell  you  how  difficult 
it  is  to  breathe,  in  consequence  of  the  rarity  or  thinness  of  the  air. 

Flora  Lincoln.  Why  is  it  more  difficult  to  breathe  on  the  top 
of  a  mountain  than  in  a  valley  ?  Is  there  not  air  on  the  top  of  the 
highest  mountains  ? 

M.  F.  I  will  tell  you.  The  oxygen  in  the  air  supports  life. 
The  nitrogen,  on  the  contrary,  is  poisonous,  and  is  thrown  off  every 
time  we  breathe.  Now  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  the  air  is  thinner 
than  at  the  surface,  and  consequently  we  should  not  get  near  as 
much  oxygen  at  two  breaths  as  we  should  in  a  valley  at  one.  The 
two  gases  are  separated  in  the  lungs,  and  they  have  double  labor  to 
perform  to  collect  oxygen  sufficient  for  the  support  of  life. 

George.     Is  there  any  atmosphere  in  the  water  ? 

M.  F.  Certainly  ;  and  air  is  as  necessary  for  fishes  as  for  men, 
and  women,  and  boys,  and  girls.  If  you  should  put  a  fish  in  a  bot- 
tle of  water  and  cork  it  tight,  the  fish  would  die  very  soon.  Ev^ry 
thing  seems  to  be  fitted  for  its  own  peculiar  element,  and  though  our 
lungs  cannot  breathe  in  water,  fishes  have  gills,  which  enable  them 
to  do  so. 

The  nitrogen  gas  which  is  breathed  out  of  your  chest  cannot  again 
be  used  by  others,  on  account  of  its  poisonous  qualities.  If  you  were 
closed  in  an  air-tight  room,  you  would  die  as  soon  as  you  had  breathed 
all  the  oxygen  gas.  To  prove  this  you  need  not  try  it  yourself,  or 
upon  any  living  creature.  The  same  process  which  goes  on  in  the 
burning  of  a  candle,  or  fire,  goes  on  in  your  body,  and  keeps  you 
warm.  In  breathing,  a  small  portion  of  your  body  is  consumed,  as 
the  candle  is,  and  that  heat  is  produced  which  makes  and  keeps  you 
warm.  In  thf  place  of  a  breathing  animal,  we  can  therefore  use  a 
lighted  candle  because  they  are  much  alike  in  this  respect.  If  we 
find  that  a  lighted  candle  goes  out  in  air  which  has  been  repeatedly 
used,  then  wu  may  conclude  that  it  is  unfit  to  sustain  life.  Take  a 
thin  piece  of  cork,  and  put  a  candle  wick  and  a  bit  of  tallow  upon 


70  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

it,  just  enougn  to  make  a  blaze  ;  and  having  placed  it  upon  a  saocei 
or  plate,  light  the  wick  and  place  a  tumbler  over  it.  The  wick  will 
burn  a  short  time,  flicker,  and  then  go  entirely  out.  Can  any  one 
tell  me  the  reason  why  ? 

Henry.  I  think  I  can.  The  flame  consumes  the  oxygen  gas ; 
and  then,  not  having  anything  to  live  upon,  goes  out. 

M.  F.     Eight.     And  what  is  there  left  in  the  tumbler  ? 

Henry.     The  nitrogen. 

M.  F.  Right  again  ;  otherwise  called  carbonic  acid  gas.  Now 
lift  the  saucer  from  the  table  and  turn  the  whale  apparatus  upside 
down,  so  that  the  saucer  may  be  an  the  top  o-f  the  glass.  Light  a 
taper ;  and,  having  carefully  removed  the  sawcer  from  the  tumbler, 
dip  it  into  the  air  in  the  glass  ;  it  will  immediately  extinguish  the 
flame.  This  experiment  can  be  tried  several  times,  and  proves  con- 
clusively that  the  air  is  poisonous,  because  that  which  extinguishes 
flame,  if  taken  into  the  organs  of  breathing,  is  fatal  to  anima! 
life.  I  have  known  many  children  who,  from  fear  or  some  other 
cause,  sleep  with  their  heads  under  the  bed-clothes  m  cold  win- 
ter nights.  Now  nothing  could  be  more  ruinous  to  their  health. 
They  breathe,  over  and  over  again,  some  of  the  bad  air  which  has 
already  been  thrown  off*  from  their  lungs,  and  which  should  be  per- 
mitted to  move  away.  Many  become  ill  from  this  practice.  Warmth 
should  be  secured  by  sufficient  clothes  upon  your  bed,  but  never 
place  your  heads  under  the  bedding,  and  breathe  bad  air  —  it  will 
make  your  faces  turn  pale,  your  spirits  low,  and  it  may  shorten  your 
lives. 

The  poisonous  air,  or  gas,  which  is  left  in  the  tumbler  does  not 
fly  ofl'at  the  top  when  the  saucer  is  removed  —  it  remains  settled  in 
the  bottom  of  the  glass.  It  is  heavier  than  common  air.  This  ex- 
plains why  it  is  very  apt  to  accumulate  at  the  bottom  of  deep  cellars 
and  wells,  or  other  places  which  are  not  disturbed  by  draughts  of 
fresh  air.  In  these  places  the  gas  settles  down,  just  as  it  settles 
down  in  the  tumbler;  and  if  ignorant  men  go  down  thoughtlessly 
into  such  places,  they  are  very  liable  to  be  suffocated  by  it.  Men 
who  are  accustomed  to  such  places,  perform  your  experiment  with  a 
lighted  candle  before  risking  their  lives;  that  is,  they  let  down  a 
lighted  candle  to  the  bottom.     If  the  candle  goes  out,  they  know  that 


BE   RESOLUTE.  71 

the  deadly  gas  is  there,  and  that  any  person  wno  went  into  it  would 
be  suffocated. 

George.     Would  the  oxygen  gas  alone  support  life  ? 

M.  F.  No.  It  would  be  almost  as  fatal  as  the  other,  though  its 
effects  would  not  be  as  instantaneous.  The  qualities  of  each  seem 
to  be  in  a  degree  counterbalanced  by  the  other,  so  that  a  proper  equi- 
librium is  formed.  A  piece  of  hard  steel  wire  will  burn  in  a  jar  of 
pure  oxygen  gas,  almost  as  readily  as  a  piece  of  cotton  twine.  Of 
this,  however,  I  must  speak  at  another  time. 

Flora.  Pray,  Mr.  Forrester,  why  does  fire  always  burn  up- 
ward ? 

M.  F.  Because  the  effect  ^of  heat  is  to  rarify  or  expand  the 
air,  and  thereby  to  render  it  lighter.  This  causes  it  to  rise,  in  order 
to  give  its  place  to  that  which  is  heavier.  Did  you  never  stand 
upon  a  bridge  and  watch  the  bubbles  of  air  which  frequently  rise 
from  the  bottom  ? 

Flora.     O  yes  ;  often. 

M.  F.  Air  is  much  lighter  than  water,  and  these  bubbles  es- 
cape from  the  earth  at  the  bottom,  and  rise  to  the  surface.  When 
neighbor  Holmes'  house  was  on  fire,  you  remember  all  the  neigh- 
bors wanted  to  rush  in  and  remove  the  furniture,  but  the  head  en- 
gineer said  no,  the  doors  must  not  be  opened.  And  he  answered 
very  properly,  for  the  roof  was  then  on  fire;  and  had  the  doors  been 
opened  a  column  of  fresh  air  would  have  rushed  up  through  the 
house,  and  furnished  more  oxygen  for  the  flames,  thus  increasing 
their  fury.  By  keeping  the  doors  closed,  the  fire  was  partly  stifled, 
and  ladders  were  brought,  and  the  fire  extinguished.  All  this  is 
easily  seen  and  accounted  for  when  we  realize  that  heated  air  rises, 
and  other  air  rashes  in  to  supply  its  place. 


BE  RESOLUTE. 
"  Stand  like  an  Anvil,"  when  the  bar 

Lies  red  and  glowing  on  its  breast ; 
Puty  shall  be  life's  leading  star, 

And  conscious  innocence  its  rest. 


72 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


My  Mother. 

Mother,  again  I  see  you  stand 
Amid  your  prattling  infant  band  ; 
Again,  in  haste,  aside  you  lay 
The  book  you  wished  to  read  to-day  : 
Your  time  is  given  to  us  alone. 
Scarcely  a  moment  seems  your  own  • 
Where  shall  we  over  find  another 
To  care  for  us  like  you,  my  mother  ? 

You  wisely  train  each  well-loved  chilu. 
Gently  you  chide  the  rash  and  wild  ; 
You  tenderly  suj)pori  the  meek, 
And  give  protection  to  the  weak  ; 
I  know  that  we  are  deemed  to  be 
A  fond,  united  fauiiiv  ; 
Your  influence  biiius  us  to  each  other, - 
\V,^  owe.  our  peace  to  you,  uiy  iiiolhji. 


A  CHAPTER  FOR  THE  CHILDREN,  ABOUT  NEEDLES.     73 

l>ear  mother!  at  a  future  day, 
May  we  your  ceaseless  love  repay  ; 
Each  hour  may  we  recall  in  thought 
The  virtuous  lessons  you  have  taught, 
And  if  enticed  to  go  astray, 
Oh  !  may  we  to  our  tempters  say,  — 
"  The  way  we  tread  shall  be  no  other 
Than  that  first  shown  us  by  our  mother." 


A  Chapter  for  the  Children,  about  Needles. 

Little  Bessey  is  learning  to  sew.  She  means  to  make  pretty 
stitches,  and  no  wonder  then  that  she  should  have  some  choice  in 
needles.  "  Give  me  a  good  needle,"  says  Bessy,  "  and  I  will  do  the 
best  I  can."  No  little  girl  can  do  more.  Beautiful  things  are  these 
bright  needles.  A  ver}-  good  gentlenjan,  who  is  well  known  among 
us,  says  that 

"  They  have  a  patent  right  to  bless. 
Which  Yankee  wit  can  ne'er  make  less;" 

and  this  is  very  true.     Nothing  has  ever  yet  been  found  to  take  the 
place  of  the  one-eyed,  bright  little  needle.     What  if  we  should  talk  0 
a  while  about  its  native  place  —  how  it  is  made,  and  where  ? 

Have  the  children  ever  heard  of  the  British  Needle  Mills,  at  Red- 
ditch  ?  It  is  a  beautiful  village,  situated  in  a  secluded  part  of  the 
county  of  Worcester ;  and,  strange  to  tell,  its  inhabitants  all  live, 
directly  or  indirectly,  by  making  needles.  Nobody  knows  why 
nea.rly  all  these  bright  bits  of  steel,  which  find  their  way  to  every 
part  of  England,  and  even  come  over  the  broad  Atlantic  to  us,  — 
nohody  p}  5C37ids  to  know  why  they  are  made  at  Redditch.  Even 
the  needle-makers  themselves  cannot  tell  who  was  the  first  manufac- 
turer, or  how  long  Redditch  has  been  the  centre  of  the  manufacture. 
It  has  been  said,  however,  that  needles  were  not  sold  in  Cheapside 
(London)  until  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  We  can  imagine  pot- 
teries in  connection  with  a  clay  district  like  North  Staffordshire. 
Of  these  no  doubt  the  children  have  heard.  Joseph's  brethren  went 
to  Dothan  with  their  flocks  because  there  ws  s  herbage  there.     Men 


74  PICTORIAL    MISCELLAXY. 

make  potteries  in  places  like  StafTordshire  because  clay  is  there. 
But  no  reasons  like  these  are  given  why  the  green  Jttle  secluded 
village  of  Redditch,  away  many  miles  from  all  factories  and  manu- 
facturing towns,  should  make  needles  for  all  the  ladies  in  the  world. 
But  so  it  is.  Away  over  by  the  Malvern  hills,  where  no  rail  cars, 
stage  coaches  or  omnibuses  ever  go  —  where  nobody  goes  unless 
they  go  on  purpose  —  is  the  village  of  Redditch.  On  our  way  we  see 
women  riding  to  and  from  Broomsgrove  market  (six  miles  distant) 
on  rough  looking  little  horses,  with  panniers,  on  either  side.  Here, 
too,  we  see  white  houses,  striped  with  black  lines  to  make  tJiem 
prettier,  while  green  fields,  hills  and  hedges  make  the  entry  to  the 
village  of  Redditch  appear  vastly  different  from  either  English  or 
American  manufacturing  towns. 

A  sudden  turn  in  the  road  brings  us  at  once  to  the  village,  whose 
red  brick  houses  form  a  striking  contrast  to  the  green  fields  around. 
But  to  our  readers  a  description  of  the  place  may  be  uninteresting. 
We  will  try  to  give  them  some  ideas  of  the  manufacture  itself.  A 
curious  fact  to  the  children  will  be  this, — that  so  many  different  work- 
men should  be  employed  in  making  so  small  a  thing  as  a  needle 
and  more  curious  still,  that  each  department  of  the  labor  should  be  a 
separate  trade.  But  so  it  is.  The  man  who  anneals  does  not  point ; 
nor  does  the  pointer  make  the  eyes  or  polish  the  needle.  Some 
work  in  factories,  and  some  at  their  own  houses  ;  but  each  follows 
his  own  trade,  and  no  man  makes  a  whole  needle. 

The  number  of  needle-makers  in  Redditch  is  about  three  thou- 
sand, and  in  the  whole  district,  six  or  seven  thousand.  Many  of 
these  are  females.  In  the  factories  they  have  different  rooms  for 
each  part  of  the  manufacture ;  in  some  of  the  rooms  only  three  or 
four,  in  others  a  great  many  workmen  are  employed.  A  writer,  who 
has  visited  the  British  Needle  Mills  at  Redditch,  informs  us  that  not 
less  than  thirty  different  names  are  applied  to  the  different  processes 
of  needle-making.  My  young  readers  know  that  needles  are  made 
of  steel,  but  perhaps  they  do  not  know  that  neec  le-makers  are  not 
wire-drawers. 

A  coil  of  wire,  when  about  to  be  operated  on,  »s  carried  to  the 
"  cutting  shop,"  where  it  is  cut  into  pieces  equal  to  the  length  of  two 
o(  the  needles  about  to  be  made.     Fixed  up  against  the  wall  of  the 


A    CHAPTER    FOR    THE    CHILDREN    ABOUT    NEEDLES. 


75 


shop  is  a  ponderous  pair  of  shears,  with  the  blades  uppermost.  The 
workman  takes  probably  a  hundred  wires  at  once,  grasps  them  be- 
tween his  hands,  rests  them  against  a  gauge  to  determine  the  length 
to  which  they  are  to  be  cut,  places  them  between  the  blades  of  the 
shears,  and  cuts  them  by  pressing  with  his  body  or  thigh  against 
one  of  the  handles  of  the  shears.  The  coil  is  thus  reduced  to  twenty 
or  thirty  thousand  pieces,  each  about  three  inches  long;  and  as  each 
piece  had  formed  a  portion  of  a  curve  two  feet  in  diameter,  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  it  must  necessarily  deviate  somewhat  from  *.he  straight 
line.     This  straightness  must  be  rigorously  given  to  the  wire  before 


the  needle-maifmg  is  commenced ;   and  the  mode  by  which  it  id 
effected  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  the  whole  manufacture. 


76 


PICTOKI AL    MISC KLLAN Y. 


In  the  fi.it  place  the  wires  are  annealed.  Around  the  walls  of  tho 
annealing  shop  we  see  a  number  of  iron  rings  hung  up,  each  from 
three  or  four  to  six  or  seven  inches  in  diameter,  and  a  quarter  or 
half  an  inch  in  thickness.  Two  of  these  rings  are  placed  upright 
on  their  edges,  at  a  little  distance  apart ;  and  within  them  are  placed 
many  thousands  of  wires,  which  are  kept  in  a  group  by  resting  on 
the  interior  edges  of  the  two  rings.  In  this  state  they  are  placed  on 
a  shelf  in  a  small  furnace,  and  there  kept  till  red  hot.  On  being 
taken  out,  at  glowing  heat,  they  are  placed  on  an  iron  plate,  the 
wires  being  horizontal,  and  the  rings  in  which  they  are  inserted 
being  vertical.  The  process  of  "  rubbing"  (the  technical  name  for 
the  straightening  to  which  we  allude)  then  commences.  The  work- 
nan,  as  represented  on  the  preceding  page,  takes  a  long  piece  of 
iron  or  steel,  perhaps  an  inch  in  width,  and,  inserting  it  between  the 
two  rings,  rubs  the  needles  backwards  and  forwards,  causing  each 
needle  to  roll  over  on  its  own  axis,  and  also  over  and  under  those  by 
which  it  is  surrounded.  The  noise  emitted  by  this  process  is  just 
that  of  filing,  but  no  filing  takes  place  ;  for  the  rubber  is  smooth,  and 
the  sound  arises  from  the  rolling  of  one  wire  against  another.  The 
rationale  of  the  process  is  this:  —  the  action  of  one  wire  on  another 
brings  them  all  to  a  perfectly  straight  form,  because  any  convexity  or 
curvature  in  one  wire  would  be  pressed  out  by  the  close  contact  of 
the  adjoining  ones.  The  heating  of  the  wires  facilitates  this  pro- 
cess; and  the  workman  knows,  by  the  change  of  sound,  when  all 
the  wires  have  been  "  rubbed  "  straight.  By  the  facility  of  the  mov- 
ing of  the  rings  on  the  bench,  the  facility  of  movement  among  the 
wires  in  the  rings,  and  the  peculiar  mode  in  which  the  workman 
applies  his  tools,  every  individual  wire  is  in  turn  brought  in  contact 
with  the  rubber. 

Our  needles  have  now  assumed  the  form  of  perfectly  straight 
pieces  of  wire,  say  a  little  more  than  three  inches  in  length,  blunt  at 
both  ends,  and  dulled  at  the  surface  by  exposure  to  the  fire.  Each 
of  these  pieces  is  to  make  two  needles,  the  two  ends  constituting  the 
points ;  and  both  points  are  made  before  the  piece  of  wire  is  divided 
into  two.  The  pointing  immediately  succeeds  the  rubbing  and  con- 
sists in  grinding  down  each  end  of  the  wire  till  it  is  perfectly  sharp. 
This  is  the  part  of  needle-making  which  has  attracted  more  attention 


A   CHAPTER    FOR   THE    CHILDREN    ABOUT    NEEDLES.  77 

than  all  the  rest  put  together.  The  surprising  manipulation  by 
which  the  needles  are  applied  to  the  grindstone ;  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  grinding  is  effected ;  the  large  earnings  of  the  men  ;  the 
ruined  health  and  early  death  which  the  occupation  brings  upon 
them ;  the  efforts  which  have  been  made  to  diminish  the  hurtfulness 
of  the  process  ;  and  the  resistance  with  which  these  efforts  have 
been  met  —  all  merit  and,have  received  a  large  measure  of  attention. 
Let  us  first  notice  the  process  itself,  and  then  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances attending  it. 

Some  of  the  needle-pointers  work  at  their  own  homes,  while  some 
work  at  the  factories ;  but  the  process  is  the  same  in  either  case. 
The  pointing-room,  generally  situated  as  far  away  as  practicable  from 
the  other  rooms,  contains  small  grindstones,  from  about  eight  inches 
to  twenty  inches  in  diameter,  according  to  the  size  of  the  needles  to  be 
pointed.  They  rotate  vertically,  at  a  height  of  about  two  feet  from 
the  ground,  and  with  a  velocity  frequently  amounting  to  two  thou- 
sand revolutions  per  minute.  The  stone  is  a  particular  kind  of  grit 
adapted  for  the  purpose ;  but  sometimes  it  flies  in  pieces,  from  the 
centrifugal  force  engendered  by  the  rapid  rotation  ;  and  in  such  cases 
the  results  are  often  fearful.  The  workman  sits  on  a  stool,  or 
"horse,"  a  few  inches  distant  from  the  stone,  and  bends  over  it  dur- 
ing his  work.  Over  his  mouth  he  wraps  a  large  handkerchief;  and 
as  he  can  perform  his  work  nearly  as  well  in  the  dark  as  in  the 
light,  he  is  sometimes  only  to  be  seen  by  the  vivid  cone  of  spark? 
emanating  from  the  steel  while  grinding.  The  vivid  light  reflccLed 
on  his  pale  face,  coupled  with  the  consciousness  that  we  are  looking 
at  one  who  will  be  an  old  man  at  thirty,  and  who  is  being  literally 
"  killed  by  inches"  while  at  work,  renders  the  processes  conducted  in 
this  room  such  as  will  iiot  soon  be  forgotten. 

The  needle-pomter  takes  fifty  or  a  hundred  needles,  or  rathei 
needle  wires,  in  his  hand  at  once,  and  holds  them  in  a  peculiar  man- 
ner. He  places  the  fingers  and  palm  of  one  hand  diagonally  over 
those  of  the  other,  and  grasps  the  needles  between  them,  all  the 
needles  being  parallel.  The  thumb  of  the  left  hand  comes  over  tht 
"back  of  the  fingers  of  the  right;  and  the  different  knuckles  and 
joints  are  so  arranged  that  every  needle  can  be  made  to  rotate  on 
its  own  axis,  by  a  slight  movement  of  the  hand,  without  any  on*» 


78 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


needle  being  allowed  to  roll  over  the  others.  He  grasps  them  su 
that  the  ends  of  the  wires  (one  end  of  each)  projects  a  small  distance 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  hand  and  fingers  ;  and  these  ends  he  applies 
to  the  grindstone  in  the  proper  positior  for  grinding  them  down  to  a 
point. 


It  will  easily  be  seen,  that  if  the  wires  were  held  fixedly,  the  ends 
would  merely  be  bevelled  off,  in  the  manner  of  a  graver,  and  would  not 
give  a  symmetrical  point ;  but  by  causing  each  wire  to  rotate  while 
actually  in  contact  with  the  grindstone,  the  pointer  works  equally  on 
all  sides  of  the  wire,  and  brings  the  point  in  the  axis  of  the  wire.  At 
intervals  of  every  few  seconds,  he  adj  ists  the  needles  to  a  proper 


A   CHAPTER    FOR   THE    CHILDREN    ABOUT    NEEDLES. 


79 


position  against  a  stone  or  plate,  and  dips  their  ends  in  a  liquid 
Detween  him  and  the  grindstone.  Each  wire  sends  out  its  own 
stream  of  sparks,  which  ascends  diagonally  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  at  which  the  workman_  is  placed.  So  rapid  are  his  move- 
ments, that  he  will  point  seventy  or  a  hundred  needles,  forming  one 
hand-grasp,  in  half  a  minute;  thus  getting  through  ten  thousand  in 
an  hour ! 

The  circumstance  which  renders  this  operation  so  very  destructive 
to  health  is,  that  the  particles  of  steel,  separated  from  the  hody  of  the 
wire  by  the  friction  of  the  stone,  float  in  the  air  for  a  time,  and  are 
then  inhaled  by  the  workmen.  The  entire  atmosphere  of  the  room 
is  filled  with  these  particles. 

After  the  pointing,  the  needles  are  taken  to  the  "  stamping  shop.** 
The  little  gutter,  which  guides  the  thread  in  threading  the  needle. 


IS  made  by  the  stamping  machine,  which  is  a  heavy  block  of  stone 
on  a  bed  of  iron.     Upon  this  is  a  die,  or  stamp,  where  the  needles 


80 


nCTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


are  placed.  Over  this  is  a  huge  hammer,  brought  down  by  a  lever, 
which  is  moved  by  the  foot.  Thus  the  gutter  is  made,  and  a  place 
marked  for  the  eye.  One  stamper  can  stamp  eight  thousand  needles 
in  a  minute.  The  eye  of  the  needle  is  made  by  boys.  They  take 
a  number  in  the  hand,  spread  them  out  like  a  fan,  lay  them  on  a  press 
where  are  two  hard  steel  points.  These  descend  by  a  motion  of 
the  hand.  Two  bits  of  steel  are  thus  cut  from  the  wire,  and  eyes 
made  for  two  needles.  The  little  boys  know  how  to  guide  the 
piercers  because  the  place  for  the  eye  is  marked.  They  need,  how- 
ever, good  sharp  eyes  of  their  own  in  order  to  see  the  mark.  Many 
children  work  here,  some  so  small  that  they  can  only  "spit"  the 

needle  when  the  eye  is  made  ; 
this  is  done  by  passing  a  wire 
through  the  eye.  All  this  time 
the  needles  are  double,  the  wire 
long  enough  for  two,  the  eyes  in 
the  centre,  and  pointed  at  both 
ends.  Then  comes  the  separa- 
tion by  the  files.  Then  the 
"  soft-straightener,"  which  is 
usually  a  female.  She  makes 
the  wire  straight  by  pressing  it 
with  rollers  against  an  iron 
plate,  as  represented  on  the  fol- 
lowing page.  Three  thousand 
can  be  straightened  in  an  hour 
Then  they  are  to  be  hardened 
and  "  tempered."  This  is  done  by  heating  them  in  a  furnace,  and 
then  immersing  them  in  oil  or  cold  water.  By  these  operations  the 
wire  may  become  a  little  crooked  again.  This  is  cured  by  the 
•'  hammer-straightening,"  which  is  performed  by  females  with  tinny 
hammers.  After  this  is  the  scouring  process,  by  which  the  needles 
are  rubbed  one  against  another  for  eight  hours.  This  is  done  by  a 
scouring-machine,  kept  in  motion  by  a  steam-engine. 

Then  we  come  to  the  "bright-shop,"  where  many  more  things  are 
done  to  finish  the  needle.  Here  little  girls  turn  the  heads  one  way 
and  the  points  the  other.     These  are  called  "the  headers."     We 


A    CHAPTER    FOR    THE    CHILDREN    ABOUT    NEEDLES. 


81 


have  all  heard  of  "  superior  drilled-eyed  needles  ;"  they  are  made  by 
heating  the  heads  ;  then  all  the  sharp  points  are  taken  out,  and  they 
are  "  drilled;"  the  heads  are  rounded  by  small  graiding-wheels,  and 
then  they  pass  to  the  "  polishing-wheels,"  which  are  made  of  wood, 
coated  with  buff  leather,  and  touched  with  polishing  paste.  No 
wonder,  after  all  this,  that  the  needles  are  warranted  "not  to  cut  the 
thread." 


During  our  journey  to  the  needle  mills  at  Redditch,  we  have  prob- 
ably sewed  but  a  short  seam  ;  but  never  mind,  we  will  make  up  for 
that  another  time.  The  children  will  not  love  the  needle  less  for 
knowing  its  history;  and  while  the  little  bright  bit  of  steel  makes 
our  happy  firesides  still  happier,  we  will  not  forget  those  who  ply 
the  needle  in  weariness  and  want; 

Who  stitch,  stitch,  stitch,  in  the  dull  December  light, 
And  stitch,  stitch,  stitch,  when  the  day  is  warm  and  bright; 
6 


82  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

While  underneath  the  eaves 

The  brooding  swallows  cling, 
As  if  to  show  their  sunny  backs, 

And  twit  them  with  the  spring. 

God  bless  the  little  girls  with  their  needles,  and  may  they  nerer 
forget  the  poor  ! 


My   Grandfather, 

Dear  grandfather  !  evening  is  closing, 
And  I  haste  to  your  chamber  again ; 

Your  foot  on  a  stool  is  reposing, 

And  I  fear  you  still  suffer  from  pain  1 

My  bird  I  brought  hither  to  please  you  ; 

Bat  intrusive  I  fear  1  must  be  ; 
Oh !  would  that  from  pain  I  could  ease  you, 

In  return  for  your  kindness  to  me. 


WONDERFUL    SAGACITY.  83 

ilcw  ofl  have  you  told  me  a  story 

Of  wonder,  of  pathos,  or  mirth  ; 
Of  warriors  covered  with  glory. 

Or  peasants  ennobled  by  worth  ! 

You  have  lived  in  the  country  o^  strangers  j 

You  have  travelled  by  land  and  by  sea  ; 
You  well  know  the  world  and  its  dangers, 

And  impart  your  experience  to  me. 

I  shall  treasure. the  sound  information. 

By  you,  my  dear  grandfather,  taught, 
When  I  enter  a  world  of  temptation. 

Where  knowledge  oft  dearly  is  bought. 

Meantime,  still  remain  my  adviser, 

My  faults  still  indulgently  see  ; 
And  make  me  grow  better  and  wiser, 

By  the  cure  you  bestow  upon  me. 


Wonderful  Sagacity. 

A  FRIEND  in  P ,  New  Hampshire,  tells   us  the   following 

remarkable  case  of  brute  reason,  which  occurred  the  last  summer. 
He  had  a  pair  of  colts,  with  one  owned  by  a  neighbor,  out  to  past- 
ure, about  half  a  mile  from  the  house.  One  day,  two  of  them  came 
trotting  up  to  the  door,  neighing  very  singularly.  At  once  it  was 
conjectured  that  something  had  befallen  their  missing  comrade. 
Upon  going  to  the  pasture,  he  was  found  hung  upon  the  fence  alive, 
but  very  much  swollen  and  exhausted.  The  grass  was  eaten  to  the 
ground  near  him,  and  he  had  apparently  been  in  that  situation  one 
or  two  days. 

The  colts  that  came  up  to  the  house  to  give  the  alarm  had  been 
obliged  to  jump  quite  a  high  fence. 

There  is  another  beautiful  instance  of  animal  sagacity  which  we 
find  in  the  papers  : — 

At  Braintree,  towards  evening,  a  hound  belonging  to  Mrs.  E. 
Vinton,  came  home,  and  went  toward  one  of  her  sons,  fawning  and 
caressing  him,  "  Tray,"  said  he,  "  you  want  another  woodchuck, 
do  you  ?     I  cannot  go  this  afternoon.     I  killed  one  for  you  yester* 


V 


84  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

uay."  The  dog  would  not  take  no  for  an  answer,  but  continued  his 
caresses,  and  even  took  hold  of  the  young  man's  pants  to  pull  him 
along.  He  finally  concluded  to  see  what  the  dog  wanted  ;  he  took 
his  gun,  the  dog  taking  the  lead,  and  followed  througn  a  thicket  of 
wood  into  a  pasture,  where  they  found  a  neighbor's  horse  cast  and 
nearly  dead.  Some  assistance  was  called,  the  horse  relieved,  and 
the  dog  seemed  perfectly  happy. 


The  Birds. 

What  say  the  little  birds,  who  come  on  a  bright  morning,  and 
sing  among  the  trees  ?  Mary  says  that  they  say  Bobolink !  and 
Pe-dee-de!  and  Chess-a-wess !  and  Jo  "White!  Jo  White  !  But  what 
does  all  this  mean  ?  Edward  thinks  that  God  knows  what  the  birds 
mean  when  they  sing;  and  no  doubt  Bobolink  means  something  like 
this : 

Bobolink. 
How  I  love  the  morning  dew, 
Sparkling  on  the  lily  spray ! 
How  I  love  the  sky  of  blue, 
Beaming  on  the  birds  to-day ! 

Pee-dee-dc. 
How  I  love  the  forest-trees, 

Where  the  birds  may  build  a  nest  — 
Where  the  chilly  northern  breeze 

Cannot  reach  their  nightly  rest ! 

Chess-a-wess. 
While  I  cleave  the  morning  air. 

Having  neither  house  nor  home, 
God  will  have  me  in  his  care, 

Freely,  gladly,  may  I  roam. 

Jo  White. 
Jo  White  killed  a  little  bird, 

And  before  the  morning  light, 
Died,  without  a  single  word  — 

Toor  Jo  White  !  Jo  White ! !  Jo  Wliite ! ! ! 


¥ 


TI-IK    OSTRICH. 


85 


".ri:.«.«^^':2?^HH=r^^^::^4:::3 


The    Ostrich. 


What  a  strange-looking  bird!  One  would  think  that  the  two 
represented  in  the  picture  were  running  a  race  ;  but  probably  they  are 
trying  to  escape  from  some  hunters.  The  hunters  capture  them  for 
the  beautiful  feathers  in  their  wings.  As  the  ostrich  runs  with 
almost  incredible  speed,  the  hunters  could  never  catch  them, 
although  they  are  mounted  upon  the  fleetest  of  horses,  were  it  not 
for  the  fact  that  the  silly  birds,  instead  of  ^/anning  straight  forward, 
keep  running  round  and  round  in  a  circle.  Nor  is  this  the  only 
foolish  trick  they  have,  for  sometimes,  when  hotly  pursued,  they  will 
plunge  their  heads  into  the  sand,  and  stand  with  their  bodies  per- 
fectly exposed,  thinking,  probably,  that  they  are  out  of  all  danger, 
while  the  hunters  speedily  come  up  with  and  slay  them. 

The  rstrich  is  an  inhabitant  of  the  great  deserts  of  the  east,  ll 
has  been  called  the  camel-bird,  in  consequence  of  its  powerful  legs, 


86  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

its  hooted  feet,  and  its  wonderful  power  of  endurance.  It  is  found 
in  great  abundance  on  the  burning  plains  of  Arabia  and  Africa,  and 
although  it  shuns  man  as  its  greatest  enemy,  yet  it  is  easily  tamed, 
and  becomes  attached  to  its  keepers.  When  these  birds  are  annoyed, 
they  are  dangerous  to  approach,  and  they  have  been  known  to  tear 
the  body  of  a  man  completely  to  pieces,  by  one  blow  of  their  powerful 
legs.  On  one  occasion,  a  party  of  hunters  had  driven  a  large  ostrich 
into  a  kind  of  pen,  when  the  poor  bird,  driven  almost  to  distraction, 
turned  upon  its  pursuers,  and,  in  spite  of  all  their  exertions,  two  of 
their  horses  were  killed,  and  the  leg  of  one  rider  broken,  and  the 
ostrich  escaped! 

They  build  no  nest,  but  merely  excavate  small  holes  in  the  ground, 
where  the  females  deposit  their  eggs,  sometimes  as  many  as  thirty. 
During  the  day,  the  hens  take  turns  in  sitting  upon  the  eggs,  and  at 
night  the  males  relieve  them,  and  woe  to  any  jackal  or  other  beast, 
which  may  be  provding  about  in  search  for  .lis  supper !  for  when  the 
intruder  comes  within  reach  of  that  terrible,  double-clawed  foot,  one 
blow  lays  him  dead.  In  the  day-time,  while  the  sun  shines  hot,  all 
the  birds  leave  their  eggs  sometimes  for  several  hours.  What  a 
curious  employment  for  the  sun ! 

The  ostrich  sometimes  grows  to  the  height  of  seven  or  eight  feet. 
The  natives  often  tame  them,  and  use  them  for  horses,  and,  mounted 
on  their  shoulders,  they  are  carried  over  the  sandy  plains  with  great 
speed. 


The  Pyramids  of  Gizeh. 


The  pyramids  of  Middle  Egypt  are  divided  into  five  groups,  and 
contain,  in  all,  about  forty  pyramids.  They  commence  at  Gizeh, 
which  is  situated  nearly  opposite  the  city  of  Cairo,  upon  the  banks 
of  the  river  Nile,  and  extend  about  seventy  miles  to  the  south,  being 
placed  at  irregular  intervals,  at  some  considerable  distance  from  the 
river.  The  three  great  pyramids  of  Gizeh  are  about  seven  miles 
from  Cairo,  and  are  the  largest  in  the  world,  and,  being  very  near  a 
great  city,  they  are  the  most  frequently  visited  by  strangers. 

After  passing  the  river,  and  crossing  the  cultivated  portion  of  the 
valley,  we  arrive  at  the  edge  of  the  desert,  where  our  animals  sink 


THE    FRYAMIDS    OF    GIZEH.  87 

deep  at  every  step  into  the  sand,  stretching  away  in  mound  and  val- 
ley interminably  to  the  left ;  while  flocks  of  plover,  quails,  ibises, 
etc.,  rest  upon  the  field  on  the  right,  or  skim  along  the  atmosphere. 
The  pyramids  themselves,  though  towering  above  everything  around, 
do  not  disclose  all  their  vastness,  there  being  no  object  near  by  which 
to  judge,  by  comparison,  of  their  magnitude.  Before  we  approach 
them,  they  seem  quite  near,  quite  at  hand,  and  the  intervening 
space  only  a  few  minutes'  ride.  But  let  us  go  on  another  hour,  and 
though  they  certainly  seem  nearer,  still  they  are  yet  a  great  way  off. 
Another  hour  —  the  pyramids  are  close  at  hand;  the  sun  occasion- 
ally shines  on  them,  and  gilds  their  peaks  ;  and  the  shadows  of  pass- 
ing clouds  travel  over  them  as  over  the  face  of  a  mountain.  We 
now  meet  a  number  of  Bedouin  Arabs,  hastening  towards  us  to  offer 
their  services  as  guides.  They  are  generally  tall,  muscular  young 
men,  frequently  handsome,  and  they  all  appear  good-humored  and 
lively. 

The  vast  pyramids  are  erected  upon  a  rocky  eminence,  which  rises 
about  one  nundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Egyptian  plain.  By 
the  action  of  the  west  winds,  it  has  been  covered  with  sandy  mounds, 
various  in  form  and  height,  which  cause  it  to  appear  rugged  and  in 
conformity  with  our  ideas  of  the  Lybian  waste.  When  we  have 
gained  the  summit  of  this  height,  and  cleared  the  hillocks  which  at 
first  obstruct  our  view,  all  the  sublimity  of  the  pyramids  bursts  at 
once  upon  us.  The  tallest  of  our  party,  standing  at  their  base,  is 
scarcely  as  high  as  one  layer  of  the  stones  ;  and  when  we  draw  near 
and  behold  the  mighty  basis  —  the  vast  breadth,  the  prodigious 
solidity,  the  steep  acclivity  of  the  sides,  misleading  the  eye,  which 
appears  to  discover  the  summit  among  the  clouds,  whilst  the  kite 
and  the  eagle,  wheeling  round  and  round,  far,  far  aloft,  are  not  yet  as 
high  as  the  top  —  we  are  compelled  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of 
the  popular  opinion,  which  enumerates  these  majestic  structures 
among  the  wonders  of  the  world. 

Ihe  height  of  the  greatest  pyramid  is  four  hundred  and  sixty 
feet,  being  nearly  sixty  feet  higher  than  the  summit  of  St.  Paul's 
cathedral,  in  London.  It  consists  of  successive  tiers  of  vast  blocks 
of  stone,  rising  above  each  other  in  the  form  of  steps.  The  thick- 
ness of  these  layers  varies,  and  as  you  ascend  the  height  of  the  steps 


88  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

decreases.  There  are  abou't  two  hundred  steps  from  the  bottom  to 
the  top.  The  vast  structure  is  contrived  so  that  a  line  stretched 
from  any  part  of  the  bottom  to  the  top  would  touch  the  edge  of  every 
step.  It  is  stated  that  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  men  were 
constantly  employed,  for  twenty  years,  in  the  construction  of  the  great 
pyramid.  This  may  or  may  not  be  so,  as  no  one  can  tell  anything 
at  all  about  the  matter,  except  by  conjecture,  so  many  ages  have 
passed  since  these  monuments  were  built;  yet,  when  we  consider 
their  vast  size,  their  solidity,  the  almost  incredible  size  of  some  of 
the  largest  stones  used  in  their  construction,  many  of  which  are 
thirty  feet  in  length,  ten  or  fifteen  in  breadth,  and  ten  feet  high  —  I 
say,  when  we  consider  these  things,  in  connection  with  the  strong 
probability  which  exists  that  all  of  that  great  body  of  stones  was  dug 
from  a  quarry  more  than  nine  hundred  miles  up  the  Nile,  conveyed 
to  the  boats,  brought  down  the  river,  and  then  conveyed  up  the 
banks  again  to  the  place  where  they  now  are,  our  wonder  ceases, 
and  we  are  inclined  to  increase  rather  than  diminish  in  our  minds 
the  probable  number  of  men  employed  in  building  this  structure. 

Numerous  travellers  have  placed  their  feet  upon  the  summit,  and 
have  published  their  opinions  of  this  great  edifice.  The  following 
iescription  of  a  recent  visit  is  the  best  we  have  ever  seen. 

"  Proceeding  with  our  guides  to  the  entrance,  which  is  the  com- 
mon point  of  departure,  whether  we  mount  to  the  top  or  descend  to 
the  interior,  we  selected  two  Arabs,  to  aid  us  in  running  along  the 
narrow  ledges,  and  in  passing  over  the  dangerous  projections  and 
angles,  and  forthwith  began  to  ascend.  At  first  the  way  seemed 
difficult  of  ascent,  but  as  we  proceeded,  and  rose  from  one  step  to 
another,  we  gradually  became  familiar  with  our  position,  and  learned 
to  be  bold.  Our  track  lay  along  the  north-eastern  angle,  where 
time  and  the  irresistible  storms  which  annually  sweep  over  the 
desert  have  tumbled  down  many  of  the  stones,  and  thus  made,  at 
various  heights,  resting  places  for  the  traveller.  Looking  upward 
along  the  face  of  the  pyramid,  the  steps  seem  to  ascend  to  the  clouds; 
and  if  you  turn  your  eyes  below,  the  height  looks  dizzy,  prodigious, 
fearful,  and  the  people  at  the  bottom  appear  to  be  shrunk  to  dwarfs, 
The  prospect  of  the  country  enlarges  at  every  step ;  the  breadth  of 


rSS  BOLY   FJUmLI, 


THE    PYRAMIDS    OF    GIZEII. 


89 


the  pyramid  diminishes  sensibly;   and  at  length,  after  considerable 
toil,  you  find  yourself  upon 


THE    TOP    OF    THE    GREAT    PYRAMID. 

'A  number  of  large  blocks  of  an  unfinished  layer  occupy  a  portion 
<,f  the  square  area,  and  serve  the  traveller  as  a  desk  to  write  on. 
They  are  covered  with  the  names  of  innumerable  visitors,  of  all 
nations,  cut  deep  in  the  stone ;  but  I  saw  none  to  which  any  great 
celebrity  is  attached. 

"  It  was  now  about  mid-day,  and  the  sun,  entirely  free  from  clouds, 
smote  upon  the  pyramid  with  great  vehemence,  so  that,  with  the 
warmth  produced  by  the  labor  of  the  ascent  and  the  ardor  of  its  rays, 
we  experienced  a  heat  resembling  that  of  an  oven.  The  air  was 
clear,  and  our  view  unimpeded  on  all  sides.  To  the  south,  scattered 
in  irregular  groups,  were  the  pyramids  of  Sakkarah,  Abousir,  and 
Dashour,  glittering  in  the  sun,  like  enormous  tents,  and  appearing, 
from  their  number,  and  the  confusion  of  their  arrangement,  to 
extend  to  an  unknown  distance  into  the  desert.  On  the  west  was 
the  wilderness  of  Lybia,  stretching  away  to  the  edge  of  the  borizon, 
arid,  undulating,  boundless,  apparently  destitute  of  the  very  princi- 
ple of  vegetation,  an  eternal  prey  to  the  sand-storm  and  the  whirl- 


yO  ^  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Wind.  A  flock  of  gazelles,  or  a  troup  of  Bedouins,  scouring  across 
the4)lain,  would  have  relieved  its  monotony ;  but  neither  the  one  nor 
the  other  appeared.  To  the  north  and  the  east,  the  landscape  pre 
sented  a  perfect  contrast  to  this  savage  scenery ;  night  and  day  are 
not  more  different.  All  that  remains  of  the  valley  of  the  Nile  is 
luxuriantly  covered  with  verdure  and  beauty;  corn-fields,  green 
meadows,  woods  of  various  growth  and  foliage,  scattered  villages,  a 
tliousand  shining  sheets  of  water,  and  above  all,  the  broad,  glittering 
stream  of  the  Nile,  spreading  fertility  on  all  sides.  Beyond  this 
were  the  white  buildings  of  Cairo,  Babylon  and  Rhoda,  backed  by 
the  long,  lofty  range  of  the  Gebel  Mokattam,  reflecting  the  bright 
rays  of  the  mid-day  sun. 

"  We  remained  for  some  time  on  the  summit  of  the  pyramid,  as  if 
loth  to  quit  the  spot,  admiring,  with  unwearied  delight,  the  extraor- 
dinary features  of  the  landscape  beneath  ;  but  at  length  it  became 
necessary  to  descend.  We  descended  rapidly.  I  had  an  Arab  on 
each  side  'of  me,  who  actively  assisted  my  efforts,  springing  from 
step  to  step  with  the  agility  of  a  chamois.  It  was  now  that  the 
height  looked  dangerous,  the  blocks  on  which  we  stood  vast,  and  the 
labor  that  had  piled  them  upon  each  other  marvellous  ;  but  we 
reached  the  bottom  in  safety,  in  one  twentieth  part  of  the  time  it 
had  taken  us  to  ascend." 

The  pyramids  are  not  perfectly  solid,  but  contain  numerous  gal- 
leries and  chambers,  which  have  often  been  explored.  Some  of  the 
large  stones  of  which  I  have  spoken  were  used  in  constructing  these 
chambers,  and  they  are  often  worked  as  smooth  and  as  true  as  the 
best  marble. 

The  original  use  and  object  of  these  imperishable  structures  has 
never  been  discovered ;  but  they  are  supposed  to  have  been  con- 
nected in  some  way  with  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  and 
employed  as  tombs  and  temples.  Many  bodies,  embalmed,  have 
been  found  in  t.iem,  and  the  coffins  covered  over  with  hieroglyphics. 
The  pyramids,  from  some  recent  discoveries  which  have  been  made 
in  deciphering  these  characters,  are  supposed  to  have  been  built 
about  eighteen  hundred  years  before  our  Saviour  came  upon  the 
ear'h,  though  some  of  them  are,  doubtless,  much  more  ancient. 


SPRING. 


91 


BY    MARK  S    BROTHER. 

It  is  May,  and  the  farmer,  with  studious  care, 

Is  toiling  the  fruitful  earth  to  prepare. 

By  turning  the  turf  with  the  shining  share, 

Ere  he  scatters  the  seed  on  the  plain  ; 
The  soft  shower  falls  on  the  thirsty  field, 
And  the  warm  sun  forces  the  earth  to  yield 

A  harvest  of  golden  grain. 


92 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

How  cheerful  the  farmer  !  —  do  you  mark  that  smile. 
That  lights  up  his  honest  face  1     Meanwhile 
He  is  humming  an  air  the  hours  to  beguile, 

While  breaking  the  bright  green  sward  ; 
No  fears  are  filling  his  quiet  heart, 
For  he  trusts  in  God,  if  he  does  his  part, 

That  his  labor  shall  reap  its  reward. 

He  knows  right  well  who  it  is  who  said, 
"  Who  tilleth  the  soil  shall  not  want  bread, 
While  light  o'er  the  earth  by  the  sun  is  shed," 

Rich  plenty  shall  fill  his  store  : 
When  winter  has  come  with  chilling  blast, 
All  sorrow  away  from  his  home  is  cast, 

And  the  poor  are  not  turned  from  his  door. 

It  is  May,  and  the  green  young  leaf  is  unrolled. 
The  sweet-scented  blossoms  their  beauties  unfold. 
Where  the  honey-bees  gather  a  levee  to  hold. 

All  nature  is  smiling  with  joy  ; 
Come  away  to  the  fields  with  the  gamboling  herds, 
With  the  murmur  of  brooks  and  the  songs  of  the  birda 

Your  hearts'  purest  praises  employ. 


QUICKSILVER    MINES.  ^3 

Quicksilver,  or  Mercury- 
Go  into  a  d'uggist's  shop  and  ask  the  proprietor  to  show  you  some 
quicksilver.  He  will  probably  take  down  a  small  bottle  containing 
a  shining  fluid,  very  closely  resembling  melted  lead.  If  you  take 
the  bottle  into  your  hands  you  will  be  astonished  at  its  great  weight, 
and  for  some  moments  you  will  be  almost  certain  that  there  are  some 
heavy  weights  attached  to  it.  If  you  pour  out  a  small  quantity  into 
your  hand,  it  will  roll  about  in  all  directions,  but  will  assume  nearly 
the  shape  of  a  ball,  unless  scattered  by  violence.  You  cannot  pick 
it  up,  for  it  will  evade  your  grasp  entirely.  It  will  not  stick  to  your 
fingers,  but  as  soon  as  they  are  removed  it  will  fall  together  again 
into  one  mass.     This  is  what  mineralogists  call  Mercury. 

Mercury  is  of  great  use  in  extracting  other  metals  from  their  ores. 
It  has  a  great  attraction  for  gold,  and  still  greater  for  silver;  and 
without  the  aid  of  this  mineral,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  obtain  those 
more  precious  commodities.  The  silver-mines  of  Potosi  would  have 
been  almost  useless,  had  not  a  mine  of  quicksilver  been  discovered 
at  Guanza  Velica,  in  the  same  country.  This  mine  has  been  worked 
almost  three  hundred  years,  and  does  not  seem  to  diminish  in  its 
productiveness. 

When  a  visitor  gets  fairly  into  the  mine,  he  finds  a  subterraneous 
city,  with  broad  streets,  open  squares,  and  a  chapel,  in  which  the 
ceremonies  of  the  Romish  religion  are  performed,  especially  upon 
high  days.  Thousands  of  flambeaux  are  kept  continually  burning 
to  give  light  to  these  otherwise  gloomy  regions,  into  which  the  sun 
has  never  darted  a  ray. 

The  ore  in  which  the  quicksilver  is  contained  is  earthy,  of  a 
whitish  red  color,  looking  like  burned  brick.  This  is  pounded  small. 
It  is  then  put  into  a  kiln,  somewhat,  in  shape,  like  an  oven:  the 
bottom  consists  of  an  iron  grating,  covered  with  earth.  Under  this 
a  gentle  heat  is  kept  up,  with  an  herb  which  grows  in  that  part  of 
the  country ;  and,  from  its  being  deemed  the  most  suitable  fuel  for 
this  business,  the  cutting  of  it  for  other  purposes  is  prohibited,  for 
sixty  miles  around.  The  heat  thus  communicated  to  the  pounded 
ore  sublimes  the  mercury,  that  is,  makes  it  rise  with  the  smoke, 
which  can  or  y  pass  off' through  a -very  small  hole,  connected  with  a 


94  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

number  of  retorts,  or  earthen  vessels  with  long  necks,  each  having  a 
little  water  in  its  lower  part.  The  water  condenses  the  smoke,  and 
the  small  globules  of  quicksilver  which  had  come  with  it  fall  to  the 
bottoms  of  the  retorts,  where  they  are  gathered  easily  together  into 
one  mass. 

This  mine  is  wrought  at  the  expense  of  private  persons,  who  are 
obliged  to  sell  the  whole  produce  to  the  king  at  a  stated  price. 
When  the  government  has  obtained  enough  for  present  purposes 
from  the  mines,  the  work  is  suspended.  This  mine  is  worked  by 
the  native  Indians,  who,  in  consequence  of  the  noxious  gases  in  all 
mines  of  quicksilver,  rarely  live  more  than  one  or  two  years.  They 
work  naked,  and  although  they  are  required  to  labor  only  six  months 
at  one  time,  yet  many  do  not  live  even  that  short  period,  and  those 
that  do  are  reduced  to  a  state  of  great  wretchedness,  and  are  unfit 
for  any  other  employment  afterwards. 

There  are  various  mines  of  quicksilver  in  Europe.  One  at  Idria, 
in  Carniola,  belonging  to  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  is  worked  by  per- 
sons condemned  for  certain  crimes.  They  are  said  to  be  wretched 
in  the  extreme.  They  labor  in  darkness,  or  far  away  from  the  light 
of  the  sun,  toiling  out  a  miserable  life  under  the  lash  of  hard-hearted 
task-masters.  The  entrance  to  this  mine  is  in  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain, at  a  hole  about  fifteen  feet  wide.  The  conveyance  to  the  mine 
below  is  in  a  bucket,  to  a  depth  of  more  than  six  hundred  feet.  The 
opening  widens  as  you  descend,  but  becomes  more  and  more  gloomy 
as  you  leave  the  light.  After  a  pretty  long  swing  in  this  manner, 
you  touch  the  bottom ;  but  the  ground  on  which  you  tread  sounds 
hollow.  The  sound  of  your  own  feet  echoes  among  the  gloomy 
caverns  like  thunder.  Feeble  lamps  are  placed  here  and  there,  just 
sufficient  to  guide  the  workmen.  But  a  person  just  descended  from 
the  surface  is  not  able  to  see  anything,  not  even  the  persons  who 
come  to  conduct  him  about  the  place. 

This  mine  was  discovered  in  1497.  The  quantity  of  mercury 
cleansed  from  the  ore  every  year  amounts  to  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five  tons.  Much  pure  metal,  called  virgin  mercury,  is  caught 
here  as  it  oozes  out  of  the  crevices  of  the  mine. 

There  is  another  important  mine  in  the  province  of  La  Mancha, 
in  Spain.     This  is  worked  by  the  king.     Here,  also,  much  pure 


I 


MALAY   VILLAGE. 


95 


mercury  is  obtained  by  catching  it  as  it  falls  out  of  the  crevices  of 
the  mine. 

Though  quicksilver  is  generally  in-a  fluid  state,  yet  it  is  frequently 
frozen  in  Russia  and  other  cold  countries.  It  sometimes  freezes  in 
our  own  country.  Mercury  congeals  at  about  40  degrees  below 
zero,  Fahrenheit.  This  closes  our  ramble  through  the  mineral  crea- 
tion for  the  present.  In  our  next  volume  I  shall  give  you  a  con- 
tinuation of  these  articles,  and  wood-cut  illustrations  for  each.  We 
shall  descend,  in  imagination,  into  mines  of  salt,  coal,  gold,  silver, 
lead,  &c.  &;c. ;  and  I  shall  endeavor  to  introduce  into  our  budget 
much  information  that  will  be  of  great  benefit  to  you  as  long  as  you 
live. 


Malay  Village. 

"  But  where  are  the  Malays  ? "  That  is  right,  my  young  friend. 
Never  fear  to  ask  an  important  question.  The  boy  who  is  too 
proud  to  ask  a  question  which  he  cannot  solve,  will  make  the  man 
too  ignorf  nt  lo   impart   instruction.     You   must  learn  all  you  can 


96  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY.  ^ 

from  books,  and  then  you  will  need  many  lessons  and  not  a  few 
suggestions  from  those,  who  have  trod  the  path  of  knowledge  before 
you. 

The  Malays  are  in  India,  settled  here  and  there  in  different  parts 
of  that  country.  Very  many  of  them  are  in  Malaya,  or  what  is  more 
commonly  called  Malacca.  Look  upon  your  globe,  and  you  will 
find  this  country  to  be  the  most  southerly  part  of  the  continent  of 
Asia.  It  is  a  vast  cape,  extending  far  into  the  sea.  Now  I  have 
given  you  a  picture  of  one  of  their  villages,  and  told  you  where  they 
are  to  be  found,  tell  me,  if  you  can,  how  you  would  get  to  them? 

"  I  should  ride  the  pony." 

Oh,  Sammy  !  That  would  never  do.  Pony  would  need  grass 
before  he  could  swim  across  the  water. 

"  I  should  go  around  the  water." 

It  would  be  too  cold  to  cross  the  ice  ;  neither  you  nor  pony  could 
stand  it. 

"  How  would  you  go,  Iddy  ? " 

"I  should  take  passage  in  a  ship — go  round  Cape  Horn  —  visit 
some  of  the  islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  —  and  then  keep  on  to 
Malacca." 

Ay,  ay,  it  is  for  visiting  cousins  that  you  are  after,  I  reckon.  I 
think  I  might  go  that  way  to  meet  an  old  friend;  but  I  should  not 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  whales,  or  for  the  quickest  voyage. 

"  I  know  the  way,"  says  Mary ;  *'  Uncle  George  always  goes  round 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  up  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  his  way,  I 
am  sure,  must  be  the  right  way." 

"  Right  enough,"  says  Master  Walley,  "  till  somebody  finds  a  bet- 
ter one.  But  for  my  part  I  prefer  to  wait  till  I  can  go  on  Whitney's 
railroad  to  Oregon,  and  then  take  a  short  sail  across  the  Pacific. 
Why  should  we  drag  along  at  six  knots  an  hour,  in  these  days  of 
steam  and  lightning  ? " 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  fix  all  that  to  suit  yourselves,  but  of  one 
thing  I  assure  you;  the  Malays  are  a  queer  people.  But  I  doubt 
whether  I  would  go  far  to  see  them.  And  for  the  present,  at  least, 
I  trust  my  readers  will  be  satisfied  with  a  few  things  which  I  shall 
tell  about  them. 

The  Malays  are  a  people  widely  diffused  throughout  the  East. 


INGFENIOUS    PUZZLE.  97 

It  is  said  that  they  were  not  natives  of  the  peninsula,  which  they 
consider  more  especially  to  be  theirs,  or,  in  other  words,  they  were 
not  natives  of  Malacca,  but  that  they  came  from  Palembang,  in  Su- 
matra, on  the  banks  of  the  river  Malaya.  It  is  believed  that  they 
founded  the  city  of  Malacca  in  1252. 

Their  mayor  is  called  sultan.  He  has  nobles  under  him,  but  they 
are  not  so  noble  as  some  other  nobles,  and  the  government  is  not 
very  substantial. 

The  Malays  are  dreaded  as  pirates  by  the  people  of  Asia.  They 
pursue  plunder  or  conquest  with  awful  daring;  they  have  no  mercy 
for  strangers,  and  their  friendship  is  uncertain.  A  small  offence 
they  take  as  an  insult,  which  they  revenge  with  frenzy  and  fury. 
Some  writers,  however,  maintain  that  such  is  not  the  natural  dispo- 
sition of  the  Malays,  but  that  the  oppressions  of  their  conquerors 
have  driven  them  to  this  course  of  proceeding.  These  writers  say 
that  the  Malays  "  possess  higher  sentiments  of  honor,  greater  fidelity 
to  their  word,  and,  upon  the  whole,  a  more  estimable  character  than 
the  natives  of  India.  They  are  even  mild  and  courteous  in  their 
domestic  deportment."  But  they  admit  that  "  piracy  is  their  irregu- 
lar habit,  most  deeply  rooted  in  their  nature  ;  to  it  their  ideas  attach 
no  disgrace ;  on  the  contrary,  its  successful  prosecution  is  considered 
glorious." 

Their  language  is  very  soft  and  smooth,  and  has  become  a  sort 
of  current  dialect  in  the  mercantile  associations  of  the  East. 


Here  is  tlie  prettiest  puzzle  I  ever  saw.  It  is  the  picture  of  two 
DEAD  DOGS.  Now  if  you  add  four  short  lines  to  the  drawing,  the 
dogs  will  change  and  become  two  dogs  running  av.'ay.  Who  cun 
te  1  where  to  place  the  lines  ? 


98  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Honesty  is  the  Best  Policy. 

A    TRUE    STORY. 

A  FEW  years  ago,  I  was  acquainted  with  three  boys,  who  lived  in 
or,o  of  the  back  towns  in  Vermont,  the  oldest  of  whom  was  about 
sixteen,  and  the  youngest  about  twelve  years  of  age.  In  the  town 
where  they  lived  it  was  sometimes  customary,  when  the  grain  fields 
were  infested  with  squirrels,  for  the  young  men  and  boys  to  have  a 
"  squirrel  hunt,"  in  order  to  kill  off  these  little  mischievous  animals 
These  three  boys,  who  lived  near  each  other,  were  quite  impatient 
lor  the  day  to  come,  when  they  might  go  in  quest  of  game.  At 
length  the  time  arrived.  They  agreed  to  go  together ;  the  oldest 
was  to  use  the  gun,  and  the  others  were  to  assist  in  finding  and  car- 
rying the  game.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  on  their  way,  when 
they  came  near  to  a  barn,  which  stood  in  the  open  field,  at  a  consid- 
eiable  distance  from  any  dwelUng-house.  "  Stop,  stop,"  says 
Edward,  and  in  a  moment  he  raised  his  gun,  and  down  dropped  a 
squirrel,  that  was  pertly  sitting  on  the  barn  door,  seeming  by  his 
impudent  chattering  to  bid  defiance  to  his  new  visitors.  This  they 
thought  was  a  very  good  beginning.  After  they  had  walked  nearly 
half  a  mile,  and  had  come  to  a  hill,  from  which  they  could  look 
back  over  the  ground  they  had  travelled,  William,  looking  round, 
exclaimed,  "  See,  Edward,  the  barn  where  you  killed  the  squirrel  is 
all  in  a  blaze  !"  "  O  William,"  cried  Edward,  "  what  shall  we  do  ^ 
the  wad  from  my  gun  must  have  caught  in  the  straw  and  set  the 
barn  on  fire."  They  ran  back  with  as  much  haste  as  possible  to  see 
if  they  could  obtain  help  to  extinguish  the  flame.  But  it  was  too 
late.  There  were  no  houses  near,  and  the  barn  was  completely 
enveloped  in  the  fire.  After  loolcing  a  little  time  on  the  mischief 
they  had  carelessly,  but  unintentionally,  done,  they  turned  back 
sorrowful. 

"  What  shall  we  do  now?"  said  Edward;  "  we  have  burnt  Mr. 
Clarke's  barn,  and  have  got  nothing  to  i)ay  for  it  with — what  will  he 
do  with  us?"  "  O,"  said  William,  "  he  will  never  know  who  did 
it,  if  we  are  not  foolish  enough  to  tell  of  it,  for  no  one  saw  us,  and 
there  are  a  great  many  other  boys  hunting  about  the  fields  to-day.'' 
Edward  walked  along  thoughtfully,  and  for  a  time  made  no   reply 


HONESTV    THE    BEST   POLICY.  99 

He  liad  been  taught  that  "  Honesty  is  the  best  policy,"  and  he  was 
evidently  struggling;  against  the  temptation  to  conceal  an  act,  which 
he  ought  to  make  known.  At  length  he  resolved  what  to  do,  and 
said  to  his  companions,  "  I  am  going  to  Mr.  Clarke,  and  shall  tell 
him  I  have  r^ccidentally  set  his  barn  on  fire,  and  promise  to  pay  him 
for  it,  as  soon  as  I  can  earn  money  enough."  "  Why,  Edward,"  ti- 
claimed  WiUiam,  "Mr.  Clarke  will  punish  us,  and  likely  as  not  he 
will  send  us  to  prison,  if  we  tell  him  what  mischief  we  have  done." 
**  I  cannot  help  that,"  replied  Edward;  '^Iicill  do  right,  come  what 
will."  Upon  this  they  set  off  in  haste,  and  after  walking  a  mile 
they  found  Mr.  Clarke.  Edward  told  him  the  whole  truth,  and 
expressed  much  sorrow  that  he  had  been  so  careless,  and  took  all  the 
blame  to  himself.  He  promised  Mr.  C.  that  he  would  pay  him  for  the 
barn,  if  he  should  live  long  enough  to  earn  the  money.  Mr.  C,  wh., 
was  a  very  passionate  man,  was  very  angry  with  Edward,  and 
treated  him  harshly,  and  told  him  he  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  state's 
prison.  Edward  turned  away  deeply  mortified,  not  knowing  whv* 
';o  do.  He  went  home  with  a  heavy  heart  and  related  all  that  hnd 
happened.  As  soon  as  the  neighbors  heard  of  the  misfortune  of 
poor  Edward,  and  how  honest  he  had  been,  and  how  harshly  he  had 
been  at;ed  ^/  Mr.  C,  they  felt  a  sympathy  for  him,  and  generously 
contfibate*  ^.noney  enough  to  pay  for  the  barn.  My  young  friends, 
f  iS^  ili'ft-  .  *jafe  to  do  right.     "  Honesty  is  the  best  policy." 


:W 


lOG  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


The  City  of  Cairo  and  the  Sphinx. 

I  have  heretofore  given  you  a  description  of  thePyramiji.  1 
will  now  say  a  few  words  about  the  Sphinx,  which  is  another  great 
work  of  the  ancient  Egyptians.  The  picture  at  the  head  of  this 
article  represents  the  head  of  the  Great  Sphinx  as  it  now  appears. 

Sphinxes  have  been  found  in  several  of  the  old  cities  of  Egypt. 
They  are  formed  with  a  human  head  on  the  body  of  a  lion,  and  they 
are  always  in  a  sitting  posture,  with  the  fore  pnws  stretched  out  for- 
ward. The  largest  sphinx  ever  found  is  in  a  hollow  valley  near  the 
foot  of  the  pyramids  of  Gizeh,  and  is  represented  above.  The  head 
and  a  very  small  portion  of  the  body  are  the  only  parts  now  visi- 
ble, the  remainder  of  the  mass,  having  been  covered  up  in  the 
sand  which,  for  ages  upon  ages,  has  been  brought  there  by  the 
westerly  winds  from  the  Lybian  deserts.  The  features  of  the  great 
sphinx  are  almost  worn  away  by  the  action  of  the  sand,  so  that  they 
C9-n  scarcely  be  said  to  represent  the  human  countenance.  Were  the 
whole  valley  cleared  of  the  sand  which  now  lies  there,  the  sphinx 
would  again  become  a  sublime  object,  but  as  it  is,  it  is  impossible  to 
form  a  very  correct  idea  of  its  magnificence.  Once,  and  once  only, 
since  the  time  of  the  Romans,  has  this  prodigious  image  been  laid 
bare  to  its  basis.  The  party  succeeded  in  laying  the  paws  bare,  and 
cleared  away  the  sand  in  front  of  it  more  than  a  hundred  feet. 
Many  short  Greek  inscriptions  were  written  on  the  paws  of  the 
statue,  which  proves  that  it  was  held  in  great  veneration.  Some 
estimate  uiay  be  formed  of  its  size  by  the  fact  that  the  head  measures 


THE    CITY    OF    CAIHO    AND    THE    SPHINX. 


101 


twenty-eight  feet  from  the  chin  to  the  top  of  the  forehead.     Let  us 
now  retirn  to  the  city  of  Cairo. 


MAHMOUDIYEH    MOSQUE    AND    CITY    GATE. 

Cairo  is  about  nine  miles  in  circumference,  and  contains  nearly 
Uvo  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants.  It  was  formerly  sur- 
rounded by  a  wall,  strengthened  and  adorned  by  towers,  and  pierced 
by  sixty-nine  magnificent  gates,  several  of  which  still  remain.  In 
several  places,  however,  the  fortifications  have  crumbled  into  dust. 
The  interior  is  divided  into  fifty-four  quarters,  or  s}- stems  of  ouild- 
ings,  so  contrived  that  each  has  but  one  issue  by  which  it  communi- 
cates with  the  neighboring  sections  of  the  city. 

The  external  doorways  of  private  houses  in  Cairo  are  generally 
arched,  and  are  furnished  with  a  raised  threshold  consisting  of  a 
single  stone.  The  door  itself  commonly  consists  of  a  number  of 
planks,  rudely  put  together,  and  is  painted  green,  adorned  above 
with  red  and  white.  It  has  gen.^rally  a  knocker  and  a  wooden  lock. 
Close  to  the  entrance  is  a  stono  seat,  which  serves  horsemen  as  a 
maunting  stone,  and  is  general!}  occupied  in  the  cool  of  the  evening 


102 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY* 


by  the  elders  of  the  family,  engaged  in  smoking  and  chatting  with 
their  neighbors.  The  houses  are  generally  two  or  three  stories  high, 
sometimes  even  four  ;  and  when  sufficiently  large,  enclose  an  open, 
unpaved  court,  entered  by  a  passage  constructed  with  one  or  two 
turnings. 

Formerly  a  Christian  traveller  found  in  a  mosque  would  have 
been  guilty  of  sacrilege,  and  compelled  to  abjure  his  religion  or  lose 
his  life.  Even  now  Christians  are  prohibited  the  entry  of  all  Ma- 
hometan places  of  worship,  though,  by  adopting  the  dress  of  a  native, 
and  distributing  a  few  pieces  of  money,  they  can  succeed.  An 
English  traveller  lately  assumed  the  Turkish  costume,  and  visited 
several  of  the  most  remarkable  mosques  of  Cairo,  the  interior  of 
which  few  travellers  have  beheld.     He  thus  describes  the 


MOSQUE  OF  SULTAN  HASSAN. 

"  This  mosque  is  erected  near  the  gate  leading  to  the  citadel.     It 

is  exceed  nglv  lofty,  and  its  minarets,  surpassing  all  others  in  height, 


THE    CITY    OF    CAIRO    AND    THE    SPHINX.  103 

are  the  first  which  the  traveller  beholds  on  approaching  the  city. 
Ascending  a  long  fligr'it  of  steps,  and  passing  und?r  a  magnificent 
doorway,  we  entered  the  vestibule,  and  proceeded  to  Awards  the  sacred 
portion  of  the  edifice  ;  where,  on  stepping  over  a  small  railing,  it  was 
necessary  to  take  of!'  our  babooshes,  or  red  Turkish  shoes.  Here*  we 
beheld  a  spacious  square  court,  paved  with  marble  of  various  colors, 
fancifully  arranged,  with  a  beautiful  marble  fountain  in  the  centre. 
At  the  extremity  of  the  court,  and  entirely  open  to  it,  is  a  large 
apartment,  containing  a  marble  tabernacle,  surrounded  by  slender 
tapering  columns,  with  a  finely-sculptured  pulpit.  Numerous  Ara- 
bic sentences  are  written  on  the  wall,  in  letters  of  gold ;  and  below, 
scratched  with  pen  or  pencil,  are  the  names  of  variou?  devotees. 
Massive  doors  of  bronze,  elegantly  ornamented,  close  the  entrance 
mto  the  body  of  the  edifice  ;  into  which,  for  motives  of  piety  or  pru- 
dence, my  Turkish  conductor  was  unwilling  to  introduce  me.  To 
behold  this,  however,  having  been  my  principal  object,  I  addressed 
myself  directly  to  the  keeper  of  the  mosque,  at  the  risk  of  being 
discovered;  and,  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  the  Turk,  obtained 
instant  permission  to  enter.  Here,  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment, 
and  surrounded  by  a  neat  railing,  stands  the  tomb  of  Sultan  Has- 
san, On  the  marble  slab  was  placed  an  antique  manuscript  copy 
of  the  Koran,  in  heavy  massive  binding,  resembling  that  of  our  an- 
cestors, in  which  oak  supplied  the  place  of  mill-board.  Before  I  was 
permitted  to  touch  this  sacred  relic,  the  keeper  of  the  mosque  ex- 
plicitly demanded  of  my  companion  what  were  my  religion  and 
country.  Without  the  slightest  hesitation,  he  replied,  "  He  is  a 
Turk  from  Stamboul ;"  upon  which  the  Koran  was  placed  in  my 
hands.  The  manuscript,  which  was  of  fine  parchment,  and  many 
centuries  old,  was  written  partly  with  ink,  and  partly  in  gold  char- 
acters, and  beautifully  illuminated  with  stars  of  bright  blue,  purple 
and  gold.  These  tastefu.  ornaments,  varying  in  size  from  that  of  a 
crown  piece  to  sixpence,  studded  the  pages  and  the  margin,  but 
varied  only  in  dimensions,  the  pattern  being  always  the  same.  The 
title-page  was  slightly  torn,  and  exhibited  a  glittering  .iiass  of  gild- 
ing, intermingled  with  arabesques  in  brilliant  colors.'* 

It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  visit  all  the  places  of  worship  in 
Cairo.  Many  of  them  are  constructed  in  beautiful  style,  and  well 
deserve  a  visi   from  the  traveller. 


104 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANr. 


Statue  of  Peter  the  Great,  St.  Petersburg. 

The  rapid  change  which  Kussia  underwent  during-  the  reign  of 
Peter  the  Great,  her  extraordinary  advances  under  this  sage  legisla- 
tor, are  among  the  most  important  events  of  which  history  preserves 
the  record.  Proud  of  his  glory,  the  nation  wished,  to  erect  a  monu- 
ment in  commemoration  of  his  great  actions,  which  in  his  own  city 
should  be  a  distinctive  object  to  all  posterity.  In  the  then  young 
state  of  their  art,  some  deliberation  took  place  before  the  design  of 
the  structure  was  decided  on  :  during  this  the  hero  died,  and  the 
erection  of  the  monument  was  consequently  reserved  for  the  reign 
of  the  Empress  Catherine  II.  A  precipitous  rock  was  fixed  on  for 
the  pedestal,  on  which  a  statue  should  appear  witli  characteristics 
distinguishing  it  from  those  erected  to  other  sovereigns. 

The  first  idea  was  to  form  this  pedestal  of  six  masses  of  rock, 
bound  together  with  bars  of  copper  or  iron  ;  but  the  objection  was 
urged,  that  the  natural  decay  of  the  bands  would  cause  a  disruption 
of  the  various  parts,  and  present  a  ruinous  aspect,- while  it  would  be 


STATUE    OF    PETER    THE    GREAT. 


105 


difficult  to  insure  perfect  uniformity  in  the  quality  and  appearance  of 
the  different  blocks.  The  next  proposal  was  to  form  it  of  one  whole 
rock  ;  but  this  appeared  impossible  ;  and.  in  a  report  to  the  senate,  it 
was  stated  the  expense  would  be  so  enormous,  as  almost  to  justify 
the  abandonment  of  the  undertaking  ;  and  even  if  made  of  six  pieces, 
as  first  proposed,  the  outlay  would  be  excessive.  At  length  it  was 
determined  to  transport  to  the  city  the  largest  rock  that  could  be 
found,  and  add  other  portions  to  it  as  might  be  judged  necessary. 
Still,  great  misgivings  prevailed  as  to  the  possibility  of  removing  the 
conte^nplated  mass.  The  search  was  then  begun,  but  with  less  suc- 
cess than  had  been  anticipated,  as  the  country  around  St.  Petersburg 
is  flat  and  marshy,  affording  no  traces  of  stone,  while  the  nearest 
mountains  are  in  the  province  of  Finland.  A  whole  summer  was 
passed  in  exploration  ;  and  the  idea  of  forming  the  pedestal  of 
several  smaller  portions  was  again  entertained,  when  a  large  stone 
was  discovered  near  Cronstadt,  which  it  was  determined  to  apply  as 
the  principal  mass;  and  the  task  of  its  removal  was  confided  to  the 
Admiralty,  who,  however,  as  well  as  many  other  mechanicians  ap- 
plied to  in  turn,  refused  to  undertake  it.  The  search  for  the  smaller 
blocks  was  nevertheless  continued,  although  no  one  appeared  to  have 
any  definite  notion  of  the  use  to  be  made  of  them  in  the  event  of 
their  discovery. 

Under  these  unexpected  diffiiculties,  the  formation  of  the  pedestal 
was  intrusted  to  an  officer  of  the  corps  of  cadets,  who  had  already 
given  proofs  of  his  mechanical  skill.  A  native  of  Cephalonia,  he  had 
•been  compelled,  fcr  an  offence  against  the  laws,  to  seek  refuge  in 
Russia,  where  he  lived  under  the  assumed  name  of  Lascary.  He 
had  strenuously  reconimended  the  adoption  of  the  original  design  ; 
and  a  few  days  after  his  appointment,  he  received  information  from  a 
peasant  of  a  large  rock  lying  in  a  marsh  near  a  bay  in  the  Gulf  of 
Finland,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  city  by  water.  An  examina- 
tion was  immediately  instituted;  the  stone  was  found  covered  with 
moss ;  and  on  sounding  around  it,  the  base  was  fortunately  ascer- 
tained to  be  flat.  Its  form  was  that  of  a  parallelopipedon,  42  feet  in 
length,  27  feet  in  width,  and  21  feet  in  height  —  dimensions  suffi- 
ciently extensive  to  realize  the  conceptions  of  .M.  Falconet  the  sculp- 
tor.    But  when  the  authorities,  under  whose  direction  the  work  was 


106  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

placed,  saw  the  size  of  the  rock,  they  again  hesitated,  ana  re  torn- 
mended  its  division  into  smaller  portions.  The  fear  of  accidents, 
however,  and  the  hardness  of  the  stone,  caused  them  to  yield  to  the 
representations  of  the  engineer,  who  was  now  favored  by  the  support 
and  encouragement  of  the  minister,  Betzky ;  and  the  intelligence  of 
the  empress  being  superior  to  the  senseless  clamor  raised  by  the  en- 
vious and  the  ignorant,  she  gave  orders  for  the  commencement  of  the 
work. 

A  working  model  of  the  machinery  with  which  it  was  proposed  to 
remove  the  rock  from  its  situation,  was  first  made.  M.  Lascary  re- 
solved on  effecting  this  removal  without  the  use  of  rollers,  as  these 
not  only  present  a  long  surface,  which  increases  the  friction,  but 
are  not  easily  made  of  the  great  diameter  that  would  have  been  re- 
quired, owing  to  the  soft  and  yielding  nature  of  the  ground  on  which 
the  work  was  to  be  performed.  Spherical  bodies,  revolving  in  a  me- 
tallic groove,  were  then  chosen  as  the  means  of  transport.  These 
oflfered  many  advantages.  Their  motion  is  more  prompt  than  that 
of  rollers,  with  a  less  degree' of  friction,  as  they  present  but  small 
points  of  contact.  Stout  beams  of  wood,  33  feet  in  length,  and  one 
foot  square,  were  then  prepared.  One  side  was  hollowed  in  the  form 
of  a  gutter,  and  lined,  the  sides  being  convex  to  the  thickness  of  twc 
inches,  with  a  compound  metal  of  copper  and  tin.  Balls  of  the  same 
metal,  five  inches  in  diameter,  were  then  made,  to  bear  only  on  the 
bottom  of  the  groove.  These  beams  were  intended  to  be  placed  on 
the  ground  in  a  line,  in  front  of  the  stone,  while  upon  them  were 
reversed  two  other  beams,  prepared  in  a  similar  manner,  each  42 
feet  long  and  IS  inches  square,  connected  as  a  frame  by  stretchers 
and  bars  of  iron  14  feet  in  length,  carefully  secured  by  nuts,  screws, 
and  bolts.  A  load  of  3000  pounds,  when  placed  on  the  working 
model,  was  found  to  move  with  the  greatest  facility;  and  the  invent- 
or hoped  to  satisfy  the  minister,  as  well  as  the  mechanicians,  by  its 
public  exhibition.  The  former  was  well  pleased  with  the  experi- 
ment, and  expressed  his  belief  in  the  possibility  of  removing  the 
stone  ;  while  the  latter  raised  absurd  objections,  with  the  cry  of"  the 
mountain  upon  eggs." 

The  first  thing  to  be  done,  as  the  rock  lay  in  a  wild  and  deserted 
part  of  the  country  was  to  build  barracks  capable  of  accommodating 


STATUE    OF    PETER    THE    GREAT.  107 

400  laborers,  artisans,  and  other  persons  required,  who,  wit  i  M.  Las- 
cary,  were  all  lodged  on  the  spot,  as  the  readiest  means  of  fcirvvard- 
ing  the  work.  A  line  of  road  was  then  cleared  from  the  rock  to 
the  river  Niva,  a  distance  of  four  miles,  .o  a  width  of  120  feet,  in 
order  to  gain  space  for  the  various  opera ;ions,  and  to  give  a  free  cir- 
culation of  air,  so  essential  to  the  health  jf  the  workmen  in  a  marshy 
district,  as  well  as  to  the  drying  and  freezing  of  the  ground  —  a  point 
of  much  importance,  when  the  enormous  weight  to  be  removed  is 
considered.  In  the  month  of  December,  when  the  influence  of  the 
frosts  began  to  be  felt,  the  operation  of  disinterring  the  rock  from 
the  earth,  in  which  it  was  imbedded  to  the  depth  of  15  feet,  was 
commenced;  the  excavation  required  to  be  of  great  width — 84  feet 
all  round  —  to  admit  of  turning  the  stone,  which  did  not  lie  in  the 
most  favorable  position  for  removal.  An  inclined  plane,  600  feet  in 
length,  was  afterwards  made,  by  means  of  which,  when  the  stone 
was  turned,  it  might  be  drawn  up  to  the  level  surface. 

Among  the  objections  urged  against  the  possibility  of  removing 
the  rock,  was  the  anticipated  insurmountable  difficulty  of  placing  it 
upon  the  machine  destined  for  its  transportation.  But  the  engineer 
was  confident ;  and  wisely  preferring  simplicity  to  complication,  re- 
solved  on  employing  ordinary  levers,  known  technically  as  levers  of 
the  first  order;  these  were  made  of  three  masts,  each  65  feet  in 
length,  and  IS  inches  in  diameter  at  the  larger  end,  firmly  bound 
together.  To  diminish  the  difiiculty  of  moving  these  heavy  instru- 
ments, triangles  30  feet  high  were  erected,  with  windlasses  attached 
near  the  base,  from  which  a  cord,  passing  through  a  pulley  at  the 
top,  was  fastened  to  the  smaller  end  of  the  lever,  which,  being  drawn 
up  to  the  top  of  the  triangle,  was  ready  for  the  operation  of  turning : 
each  of  these  levers  was  calculated  to  raise  a  weight  of  200,000  lbs. 
A  row  of  piles  had  been  driven  into  the  ground  at  the  proper  distance 
from  the  stone  on  one  side,  to  serve  as  a  fulcrum  ;  and  on  the  other 
a  series  of  piles  were  disposed  as  a  platform,  to  prevent  the  sinkin-T 
of  the  mass  on  its  descent.  Twelve  levers,  with  three  men  to  each, 
were  stationed  at  the  side  to  bo  lifted,  and  the  lower  extremities  be- 
ing placed  under  the  mass,  the  upper  ends  were  drawn  downwards 
by  the  united  action  of  the  twelve  windlasses.  When  the  sto|e  rose 
to  the  height  of  a  foot,  beams  and  wedges  were  driven  underneuthi 


108  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

to  maintain  i  in  ibat  position,  while  the  le'/ers  were  arranged  for  a 
second  lift.  To  assist  the  action  of  the  levers,  large  iron  rings  were 
soldered  into  the  upper  corner  of  the  rock,  from  which  small  cables 
were  passed  to  four  capstans,  each  turned  by  36  men,  thus  maintain- 
ing a  steady  strain  ;  while  the  stone  was  prevented  from  returning 
to  its  original  position  when  the  levers  were  shifted.  These  opera- 
tions were  repeated  until  the  rock  was  raised  nearly  to  an  equipoise, 
when  cables  from  six  other  capstans  were  attached  to  the  opposite 
side,  to  guard  against  a  too  sudden  descent ;  and,  as  a  further  pre- 
caution against  fracture,  a  bed,  six  feet  in  thickness,  of  hay  and  moss 
intermingled,  was  placed  to  receive  the  rock,  on  which  it  was  hap- 
pily laid  at  the  end  of  March,  1769.  As  it  was  of  great  importance 
thr.t  all  the  workmen  should  act  at  one  and  the  same  time,  two 
drummers  were  stationed  on  the  top  of  the  stone,  who,  at  a  sign 
from  the  engineer,  gave  the  necessary  signals  on  their  drums,  and 
secured  the  certainty  of  order  and  precision  in  the  various  opera- 
tions. 

Meanwhile,  the  machinery  for  the  removal  had  been  made.  Of 
the  lower  grooved  beams  already  described,  six  pairs  were  prepared, 
so  that  when  the  rock  had  advanced  over  one  pair,  they  might  be 
drawn  forward  and  placed  in  a  line  in  advance  of  the  foremost,  with- 
out interrupting  the  movements.  The  balls  were  laid  in  the  grooves 
two  feet  apart;  the  upper  frame,  intended  as  the  bed  for  the  rock, 
placed  above  ;  the  mass,  weighing  in  its  original  form  4,000,000  lbs., 
was  then  raised  by  means  of  powerful  screws,  and  deposited  on  the 
frame,  when  it  was  drawn  up  the  inclined  plane  by  the  united  force 
of  six  capstans.  The  road  did  not  proceed  in  a  direct  line  to  the 
river,  owing  to  the  soft  state  of  portions  of  the  marsh  ;  in  many  pla- 
ces it  was  impossible  to  reach  a  firm  foundation  with  piles  50  hei  in 
length.  This  naturally  added  to  the  difficulties  of  the  transport,  as 
the  direction  of  the  draft  was  frequently  .to  be  changed.  Piles  were 
driven  along  the  whole  line  on  both  sides,  at  distances  of  300  feet 
apart;  to  these  the  cables  were  made  fast,  while  the  capstans 
revolved ;  two  of  which  were  sufficient  to  draw  the  stone  on  a  level 
surface,  while,  on  unequal  groun^,  four  were  required.  The  rate  of 
motion  was  from  500  to  1200  feet  daily,  which,  when  regard  is  had 
to  the  short  winter  days  of  five  hours  in  that  high  latitude,  may  be 


I 


STATUE    OF    PET £11    THE    GREAT.  109 

considered  as  rapid.  So  interesting  was  the  spectacle  of  the  enor- 
mous mass  when  moving,  with  the  two  drummers  at  their  posts,  the 
forge  erected  on  it  continually  at  work,  and  forty  workmen  constantly 
employed  in  reducing  it  to  a  regular  form,  that  the  empress  and  the 
court  visited  the  spot  to  see  the  novel  sight;  and,  notwithstanding 
the  rigor  of  the  season,  crowds  of  persons  of  all  ranks  went  out  every 
day  as  spectators.  Small  flat  sledges  were  attached  to  each  side  of 
the  stone  by  ropes,  on  which  were  seated  men  provided  with  iron 
levers,  whose  duty  it  was  to  prevent  the  balls,  of  which  fifteen  on  a 
side  were  used,  from  striking  against  each  other,  and  thus  impeding 
the  motion.  The  tool-house  was  also  attached,  and  moved  with  the 
stone,  in  order  that  everything  might  be  ready  to  hand  when  re- 
quired. Experiments  were  tried  with  balls  and  grooves  of  cast-iron  ; 
but  this  material  crumbled  into  fragments  as  readily  as  if  made  of 
clay.  No  metal  was  found  to  bear  the  weight  so  well  as  the  mixture 
of  copper  and  tin  ;  and  even  with  this  the  balls  were  sometimes  flat 
tened,  and  the  grooves  curled  up,  when  the  pressure  by  any  accident 
became  unequal.  The  utility  of  rollers  was  also  tried.;  but  with 
double  the  number  of  capstans  and  power,  the  cables  broke,  while 
the  stone  did  not  advance  an  inch. 

The  work  went  on  favorably,  when  it  was  suddenly  checked  by 
the  sinking  of  the  stone  to  a  depth  of  IS  inches  in  the  road,  to  the 
great  chagrin  of  the  engineer,  who  was  suffering  under  a  severe  at- 
tack of  marsh  fever.  He  was  not,  however,  disheartened,  and  speed- 
ily remedied  the  accide*  t,  spite  of  the  idle  clamors  of  the  multitude; 
and  in  six  weeks  from  the  time  of  first  drawing  the  stone  from  its 
bed,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it  safely  deposited  on  the  tem- 
porary wharf  built  for  the  purpose  of  embarkation  on  the  banks  of 
the  river,  when  the  charge  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Admiralty,  w^ho 
had  undertaken  the  transport  by  water  to  the  city. 

A  vessel  or  barge  ISO  feet  in  length,  66  feet  in  width,  and  17  feel 
from  deck  to  keel,  had  been  built  with  every  appliance  that  skill 
could  suggest,  to  render  it  capable  of  supp  )rting  the  enormous  bur- 
den. Great  precautions  were  now  necessary  to  prevent  the  possibil- 
ity of  the  falling  of  the  rock  into  the  stream  ;  water  was  let  into  the 
vessel  until  she  sank  to  the  bottom  of  the  river,  which  brought  her 
deck  on  a  level  with  the  wharf;  the  rock  was  then  drawn  on  board 


110  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

by  means  of  two  capstans  placed  on  the  deck  of  another  vessel 
anchored  at  some  distance  from  the  shore.  Pumps  and  buckets  were 
now  broi.ght  into  use  to  clear  the  barge  of  the  water  with  which  she 
had  been  filled ;  but  to  the  surprise  and  consternation  of  those  en- 
gaged, she  did  not  rise  equally;  the  centre,  bearing  most  of  the 
weight,  remained  at  the  bottom,  while  the  head  and  stern,  springing 
up,  gave  to  the  whole  the  form  of  a  sharp  curve  :  the  timbers  gave 
way,  and  the  seams  opening,  the  water  reentered  rapidly;  400  men 
were  then  set  to  bale,  in  order  that  every  part  might  be  simultane- 
ously cleared ;  but  the  curve  became  greater  in  proportion  to  the 
diminution  of  the  internal  volume  of  water. 

M.  Lascary,  who,  from  the  time  the  rock  had  been  placed  on  the 
deck  of  the  vessel,  had  been  a  simple  spectator  of  these  operations, 
which  occupied  two  weeks,  now  received  orders  to  draw  it  again 
upon  the  wharf.  He  immediately  applied  himself  to  remedy  the 
error  —  which  had  been  committed  in  not  distributing  the  weight 
equally  —  without  removing  the  stone.  He  first  caused  the  head 
and  stern  of  the  barge  to  be  loaded  with  large  stones,  until  they  sank 
to  a  level  with  the  centre  ;  the  rock  was  then  raised  by  means  of 
screws  and  beams  of  timber,  diverging  to  every  part  of  the  vessel, 
placed  under  and  against  it ;  and,  on  the  removal  of  the  screws,  the 
pressure  being  equal  in  every  part,  she  regained  her  original  form. 
The  water  was  next  pumped  out,  the  stones  removed  from  the  head 
and  stern,  a  ship  lashed  on  each  side  of  the  barge,  which,  on  the 
22d  September,  arrived  opposite  the  quay  where  it  was  intended  to 
erect  the  statue. 

Not  the  least  difficult  part  of  the  work,  the  debarkation,  remained 
to  be  done.  As  the  river  was  here  of  a  greater  depth  than  at  the 
place  of  embarkation,  rows  of  piles  had  been  driven  into  the  bottom 
alongside  the  quay,  and  cut  off  level  at  a  distance  of  eight  feet  be- 
low the  surface  ;  on  these  the  barge  was  rested ;  and,  to  prevent  the 
recurrence  of  the  rising  of  the  head  and  stern  when  the  supports 
should  be  removed,  three  masts,  lasted  together,  crossing  the  deck 
at  each  extremity,  were  secured  to  the  surface  of  the  quay.  It  was 
then  feared  that,  as  the  rock  approached  the  shore,  the  vessel  might 
keel  and  precipitate  it  into  the  river.  This  was  obviated  by  fixing 
six  other  masts  to  the  quay,  which  projected  across  the  whole  breadtlj 


STATUE  OF  PETER  THE  GREAT.  HI 

of  the  deck,  and  were  made  fast  to  a  vessel  moored  outside  ;  thus 
presenting  a  counterpoise  to  the  weight  of  the  stone.  The  grooved 
beams  were  laid  ready,  the  cables  secured,  and  at  the  moment  of  re- 
moving the  last  support,  the  drummers  beat  the  signal :  the  men  at 
the  capstans  ran  round  with  a  cheer;  the  barge  heeled  slightly, 
which  accelerated  the  movement ;  and  in  an  instant  the  rock  was 
safely  landed  on  the  quay. 

Such  was  the  successful  result  of  an  undertaking,  extraordinary  in 
its  nature  and  the  circumstances  in  opposition  to  it."^  An  example 
is  here  afibrded  to  those  who  may  have  to  struggle  with  difficulties 
in  mechanical  art,  that  will  stimulate  them  to  attempt  what  may  ap- 
pear impossible  to  the  timid  and  unreflecting.  He  who  contends 
successfully  with  the  adverse  opinions  of  men  of  learning,  and  the 
blind  prejudices  of  the  multitude,  achieves  a  moral  as  well  as  a 
physical  triumph,  deserving  of  high  praise  and  imitation. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  effect  of  this  unrivalled  pedestal  was 
marred  by  the  diminution  of  its  size.  Under  the  direction  of  the 
artist  who  had  so  successfully  formed  the  statue,  it  was  pared  and 
chiseled,  until  the  weight  was  reduced  to  3,000,000  lbs. ;  and  the 
outline,  instead  of  being  left  bold  and  broken,  as  best  suited  the  char- 
acter of  the  group,  was  made  smooth  and  uniform.  It  forms,  how- 
ever, one  of  the  chief  attractions  of  St.  Petersburg,  standing  in  the 
square  opposite  the  Isaac  Bridge,  at  the  western  extremity  of  the 
Admiralty.  Here  the  colossal  equestrian  statue  of  the  founder  of 
this  magnificent  city,  placed  on  a  granite  rock,  seems  to  command 
the  undivided  attention  of  a  stranger.  On  approaching  nearer,  the 
simple  inscription  fixed  on  it,  in  bronze  letters,  "  Petro  Primo,  Cath- 
arina  Secunda,  mdcclxxxii,"  meets  the  eye.  The  same  inscription  in 
the  Russian  language  appears  on  the  opposite  side.  The  area  is 
enclosed  within  a  handsome  railing,  placed  between  granite  pillars. 
The  idea  of  Falconet,  the  French  architect,  commissioned  to  erect 
an  equestrian  statue  to  the  extraordinary  man  at  whose  command 
a  few  scattered  huts  of  fishermen  were  converted  into  palaces,  was 
to  represent  the  hero  as  conquering,  by  enterprise  and  personal 
courage,  difficulties  almost  insurmountable.     This  the  artist  imag- 

*  The  whole  expense  of  the  removal  did  not  exceed  70,000  rubles,  or  :£l4,000  ■ 
while  the  materials  which  remained  were  worth  two  thirds  the  sum. 


112  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

ined  mi'f^ht  be  properly  represented  by  placing  Peter  on  a  fiery  steed, 
which  he  is  supposed  to  have  taught,  by  skill,  management,  and 
perseverance,  to  rush  up  a  steep  and  precipitous  rock,  to  the  very 
brink  of  a  precipice,  over  which  the  animal  and  the  imperial  rider 
pause  without  fear,  and  in  an  attitude  of  triumph.  The  horse  rears 
with  his  fore-feet  in  the  air,  and  seems  to  be  impatient  of  restraint; 
while  the  sovereign,  turned  towards  the  island,  surveys  with  calm 
.and  serene  countenance  his  capital  rising  out  of  the  waters,  over 
which  he  extends  the  hand  of  protection.  The  bold  manner  in  which 
the  group  has  been  made  to  rest  on  the  hind  legs  of  the  horse  only, 
is  not  more  surprising  than  the  skill  with  which  advantage  has  been 
taken  of  the  allegorical  figure  of  the  serpent  of  envy  spurned  by  the 
horse,  to  assist  in  upholding  so  gigantic  a  mass.  This  monument 
of  bronze  is  said  to  have  been  cast  at  a  single  jet.  The  height  of  the 
OfTure  of  the  emperor  is  11  feet,  that  of  the  horse  17  feet.  The 
bronze  is,  in  the  thinnest  parts,  only  the  fourth  of  an  inch,  and  one 
inch  in  the  thickest  part;  the  general  weight  of  metal  in  the  group 
is  equal  to  36,636  English  pounds. 


Forrester's  Evenings  at  Home. 

MOUNTAINS. 

M.  F.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  a  larger  company  at  every  succeed- 
ing meeting.  So  it  should  be.  Knowledge  should  be  eagerly  sought, 
and  at  every  opportunity.  How  much  better  to  lay  aside  our  amuse- 
ments occasionally,  and  inquire  who,  and  what  we  are,  what  phe- 
nomena surround  us,  how  we  may  live  so  as  to  be  a  blessing  to  man- 
kind, as  well  as  happy  ourselves  !  If  the  girls  were  always  skipping 
ropes,  and  the  boys  trundling  their  hoops,  they  would  soon  become 
tired  of  the  exertion,  and  there  would  be  no  pleasure  at  all  in  it. 
Change  requires  change.  A  moderate  amount  of  play  is  required 
and  useful,  both  to  boys  and  girls.  It  is  not  well  to  abstain  from  it. 
Yet  how  soon  we  learn  to  shun  those  who  do  nothing  else  but  play  ! 
They  are  wasting  the  most  precious  part  of  their  existence. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  113 

I  have  chosen  Mountains  for  our  subject  to-night,  thoagh  there 
are  not  many  facts  about  them  which  you  can  readily  understand. 
Mountains  are  vast  elevations  of  land,  varying  in  height  in  different 
countries.  The  highest  mountain  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  is  a 
peak  of  the  great  chain  separating  Hindostan  from  Thibet,  called  the 
Himalaya  mountains.  Its  name  is  Dhawalagiri  peak,  and  it  is  more 
than  five  miles  high. 

Flora.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  mountain  and  a  hill, 
Mr.  Forrester? 

M.  F.  Just  as  much  as  there  is  between  a  girl  and  a  wom^n.-. 
Pray,  Miss  Flora,  are  you  a  woman  ? 

Flora.     Why,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  a  young  woman. 

M.  F.  Well,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  use  a  comparative  phrase,, 
a  hill  is  a  young  mountain.  The  terms  are  merely  relative,  and 
every  person  must  decide  for  himself  whether  the  one  or  the  other 
should  be  employed. 

Mountains  present  a  great  variety  of  forms.  Some  are  bold,  pre- 
cipitous, and  steep,  with  deep,  yawning  and  impassable  chasms  upon 
their  sides  ;  others  are  more  easy  of  ascent,  with  smooth  surfaces,, 
on  the  sides  of  which  are  numerous  cultivated  fields  and  pasturage 
for  cattle  and  sheep.  The  most  remarkable  type  of  the  former  vari- 
ety, is  the  Peter  Botte  Mountain,  on  the  island  of  Mauritius,  n  pic- 
ture of  which  you  have  before  you. 

It  is,  in  fact,  a  high  rock,  some  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in 
height;  its  pinnacle  being  nearly  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,, 
which  is  only  a  few  miles  distant. 

Henry.  It  must  be  a  grand  sight  to  look  down  from  the  top  of 
this  elevation.     Has  it  been  often  visited  ? 

M.  F.  No,  very  rarely.  Its  top  has  once  or  twice  been  reached, 
—  the  first  time  in  September,  1842,  by  a  party  of  British  officers. 
It  was  a  daring  adventure.  One  of  the  party  gives  the  following; 
narrative  of  the  efforts  to  accomplish  their  object :  — 

From  most  points  of  view  the  mountain  seems  to  rise  out  of  the  rangoj 
which  runs  nearly  parallel  ie  that  part  of  the  sea-coast  which  forms  the  bay  of 
Port  Louis,  but  on  arriving  at  its  base  you  find  that  it  is  actually  separated 
from  the  rest  of  the  range  by  a  ravine  or  cleft  of  a  tremendous  depth.  Seen 
from  the  town  (as  is  perceived  by  the  sketch)  it  appears  a  cone  with  a  largft 
8 


114 


PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


overhanging-  rock  at  its  summit ;  but  so  extraordinarily  sharp  and  knife-like 
is  this,  in  common  with  all  the  rocks  in  the  island,  that,  when  seen  end  on,  as 
the  sailors  say,  it  appears  nearly  quite  perpendicular.  In  fact,  I  have  seen  it 
in  fifty  points  of  view,  and  cannot  yet  assign  to  it  any  one  precise  form. 


All  our  preparations  being  made,  we  started,  and  a  more  picturesque  lints 
4>f  march  I  have  seldom  seen.  Our  van  was  composed  of  about  fifteen  or 
twenty  Sepoys  in  every  variety  of  costume,  together  with  a  few  negroes  car- 
rying our  food,  dry  clothes,  &c.  Our  path  lay  up  a  very  steep  ravine,  formed 
by  the  rains  in  the  wet  season,  which  having  loosened  all  the  stones,  made  it 
anything  but  pleasant ;  those  below  were  obliged  to  keep  a  bright  look-out  for 
tumbling  rocks,  and  ine  of  these  missed  Keppel  and  myself  by  a  miracle. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  115 

From  the  head  of  the  gorge  we  turned  off  along  the  other  face  of  the  moun- 
tain ;  holding  by  th^  slirubs  above,  while  below  there  was  nothing  but  the 
tops  of  the  forest  for  mere  than  nine  hundred  feet  down  the  slope. 

On  rising  to  the  shoulder,  a  view  burst  upon  us  which  quite  defies  my  de- 
scriptive powers.  We  stood  on  a  little  narrow  ledge  or  neck  of  land,  about 
twenty  yards  in  length.  On  the  side  which  we  mounted,  we  looked  back  into 
the  deep  wooded  gorge  we  had  passed  up  ;  while,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
neck,  which  was  between  six  and  seven  feet  broad,  the  precipice  went  sheer 
down  fifteen  hundred  feet  to  the  plain.  One  extremity  of  the  neck  was  equally 
precipitous,  and  the  other  was  bounded  by  what  to  me  was  the  most  magnifi- 
cent sight  I  ever  saw.  A  narrow,  knife-like  edge  of  rock,  broken  here  and 
there  by  precipitous  faces,  ran  up  in  a  conical  form  to  about  three  hundred  or 
three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  us  ;  and  on  the  very  pinnacle  old  "  Peter 
Botte  "  frowned  in  all  his  glory. 

After  a  short  rest  we  proceeded  to  work.  The  ladder  had  been  left  by 
Lloyd  and  Dawkins  last  year.  It  was  about  twelve  feet  high,  and  reached, 
as  you  may  perceive,  about  half  way  up  a  face  of  perpendicular  rock.  The 
foot,  which  was  spiked,  rested  on  a  ledge,  with  barely  three  inches  on  each 
side.  A  grapnel  line  had  been  also  left  last  y-ear,  but  was  not  used.  A  ne- 
gro of  Lloyd's  clambered  from  the  top  of  the  ladder  by  the  cleft  in  the  face  of 
the  rock,  not  trusting  his  weight  to  the  old  and  rotten  line.  He  carried  a 
small  cord  round  his  middle  ;  and  it  was  fearful  to  see  the  cool,  steady  way  in 
which  he  climbed,  where  a  single  loose  stone  or  false  hold  must  have  sent  him 
down  into  the  abyss.  However,  he  fearlessly  scrambled  away,  till  at  length 
we  heard  him  halloo  from  under  the  neck,  "  All  right."  These  negroes  use 
their  feet  exactly  like  monkeys,  grasping  with  them  every  projection  almost 
as  firmly  as  with  their  hands.  The  line  carried  up  he  made  fast  above,  and 
up  it  we  all  four  shinned  in  succession.  It  was,  joking  apart,  awful  work.  In 
several  places  the  ridge  ran  to  an  edge,  not  a  foot  broad  ;  and  I  could,  as  I 
'leld  on,  half  sitting,  half  kneeling,  across  the  ridge,  have  kicked  my  right 
shoe  down  to  the  plain  on  one  side,  and  my  left  into  the  bottom  of  the  ravine 
on  the  other.  The  only  thing  which  surprised  me  was  my  own  steadiness 
and  freedom  from  all  giddiness.  I  had  been  nervous  in  mounting  the  ravine, 
in  the  morning,  but  gradually  I  got  so  excited  and  determined  to  succeed,  that 
I  could  look  down  that  dizzy  height  without  the  smallest  sensation  of  swim- 
ming in  the  head.  Nevertheless,  I  held  on  uncommonly  hard^  and  felt  vtry 
well  satisfied  when  I  was  under  the  neck.  And  a  more  extraordinary  situa- 
tion I  never  was  in.  The  head,  which  is  an  enormous  mass  of  rock  about 
thirty-five  feet  in  height,  overhangs  its  base  many  feet  on  every  side.  A 
ledge  of  tolerably  level  rock  runs  round  three  sides  of  the  base,  about  six  feet 
in  width,  bounded  everyw'zere  by  the  abrupt  edge  of  the  precipice,  except  in 


116  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY 

the  spot  where  it  is  joined  by  the  ridge  up  which  we  climbed.  In  one  spot 
the  head,  overhanging  its  base  several  feet,  reaches  only  perpendicularly  over 
the  edge  of  the  precipice ;  and,  most  fortunately,  it  was  at  the  very  spot  where 
we  mounted.  Here  it  was  that  we  reckoned  on  getting  up.  A  communication 
being  established  with  the  shoulder  by  a  double  line  of  ropes,  we  proceeded  to 
get  up  the  necessary  material,  Lloyd's  portable  ladder,  additional  coils  of  rope, 
crowbars,  &c.  But  now  the  question,  and  a  puzzler  too,  was,  how  to  get  the 
ladder  up  against  the  rock.  Lloyd  had  prepared  some  iron  arrows,  with 
thongs,  to  fire  over ;  and  having  got  up  a  gun,  he  made  a  line  fast  round  his 
body,  which  we  all  held  on,  and  going  over  the  edge  of  the  precipice  on  the 
opposite  side,,  he  leaned  back  against  the  line,  and  fired  over  the  least  project- 
ing part.  Had  the  line  broken,  he  would  have  fallen  eighteen  hundred  feet. 
Twice  this  failed  ;  and  then  he  had  recourse  to  a  large  stone  with  a  lead-line, 
which  swung  diagonally,  and  seemed  to  be  a  feasible  plan  ;  several  times  he 
made  beautiful  heaves,  but  the  provoking  line  would  not  catch,  and  away 
went  the  stone  fiir  down  below,  till  at  length  .^olus,  pleased,  I  suppose,  with 
his  perseverance,  gave  us  a  shift  of  wind  for  about  a  minute,  and  over  went 
the  stone,  and  was  eagerly  seized  on  the  opposite  side.  "  Hurrah,  my  lads  ! 
steady  's  the  word."  Three  lengths  of  the  ladder  were  put  together  on  the 
ledge,  a  large  line  was  attached  to  the  one  which  was  over  the  head,  and 
carefully  drawn  up,  and  finally,  a  two-inch  rope,  to  the  extremity  of  which  we 
lashed  the  top  of  our  ladder,  then  lowered  it  gently  over  the  precipice  till  it 
hung  perpendicularly,  and  was  steadied  by  two  negroes  on  the  ridge  below. 
•'  All  right ;  now  hoist  away  !"  and  up  went  the  ladder,  till  the  foot  came  to 
the  edge  of  our  ledge,  where  it  was  lashed  in  firmly  to  the  rock.  We  then 
hauled  away  on  the  guy  to  steady  it,  and  made  it  fast.  The  union-jack  and 
a  boat-hook  were  passed  up,  and  Old  England's  flag  waved  freely  and  gallant- 
ly on  the  redoubted  Peter  Botte. 

I  certainly  never  felt  anything  like  the  excitement  of  that  moment ;  ever 
the  negroes  down  on  the  shoulder  took  up  our  hurrahs,  and  we  could  hear  fai 
below  the  faint  shout  of  the  astonished  inhabitants  of  the  plain.  We  were 
determined  to  do  nothing  by  halves,  and  accordingly,  made  preparation  for 
sleeping  under  the  neck,  by  hauling  up  blankets,  pea-jackets,  &c.  Mean- 
while our  dinner  was  preparing  on  the  shoulder  below,  and  about  4  P.  M., 
we  descended  our  ticklish  path  to  partake  of  the  portable  soup,  preserved 
salmon,  &c.  Our  party  was  now  increased  by  Dawkins  and  his  cousin,  a 
lieutenant  of  the  Talbot,  to  whom  we  had  written,  informing  them  of  our 
hopes  of  success,  but  their  heads  would  not  allow  them  to  mount  the  head  or 
neck.  After  dinner,  as  it  was  getting  dark,  I  screwed  up  my  nerves  and 
climbed  to  our  queer  little  nest  at  the  top,  followed  by  Tom  Keppel  and  a  ne- 
gro, who  carried  some  dry  wood,  and  made  a  fire  in  a  cleft  under  the  locks. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  117 

Uoyi  and  Philpotts  soon  came  up,  and  we  began  to  arrange  ourselves  for  the 
night.  I  had  on  two  pair  of  trousers,  a  shooting  waistcoat,  jacket,  and  a  huge 
Flushing  jacket  over  that,  a  t  ick  woollen  sailor's  cap,  and  each  of  us  lighted 
a  cigar  as  we  seated  ourselves  to  wait  for  the  appointed  hour  for  our  signal 
of  success.  It  was  a  glorious  sight  to  look  down  from  that  giddy  pinnacle 
over  the  w'hole  island,  lying  so  calm  and  beautiful  in  the  moonlight,  except 
where  the  broad  black  shadows  of  the  other  mountains  intercepted  the  light. 
Here  and  there  we  could  see  a  light  twinkling  in  the  plains,  or  the  fire  of 
some  sugar-manufactory,  but  not  a  sound  of  any  sort  reached  us,  except  an 
occasional  shout  from  the  party  down  on  the  shoulder  (we  four  being  the  only 
ones  above.)  At  length,  in  the  direction  of  Port  Louis,  a  bright  flash  was 
seen,  and  after  a  long  interval  the  boom  of  the  evening  gun.  We  then  pre- 
pared our  prearranged  signal,  and  whiz  went  a  rocket  from  our  nest,  light- 
ing up  for  an  instant  the  peaks  of  the  hills  below  us,  and  then  leaving  us  in 
darkness.  We  next  burnt  a  blue  light,  and  nothing  can  be  conceived  more 
perfectly  beautiful  than  the  broad  glare  against  the  over-hanging  rock.  The 
wild-looking  group  we  made  in  our  uncouth  habiliments,  and  the  narrow  ledge 
on  which  we  stood,  were  all  distinctly  shown,  while  many  of  the  tropical 
birds,  frightened  at  our  vagaries,  came  glancing  by  in  the  light,  and  then 
swooped  away  screeching  into  the  gloom  below,  for  the  gorge  on  our  left 
was  dark  as  Erebus. 

Henry ^  I  ascended  the  Catskill  Mountains  last  year,  the  first  high 
ground  I  ever  visited.  I  could  not  help  wishing,  while  gazing  upon 
the  vast  and  beautiful  prospect  below,  that  I  could  visit  the  highest 
mountain  on  the  earth. 

M.  F.  That  you  can  never  do.  No  one  ever  has,  and  probably 
never  can,  reach  the  highest  mountain's  summit,  by  many  thousand 
feet.  Various  causes  will  prevent  it.  Difficulty  in  breathing  alone 
might  probably  prevent  it.  Then,  again,  as  we  ascend  from  the  foot 
of  a  mountain,  the  whole  natural  phenomena  change  as  we  go.  At 
first,  we  pass  through  a  forest.  Leaving  this,  a  belt  of  shrubbery 
must  be  passed  over.  Then  all  signs  of  vegetation  disappear,  except 
a  kind  of  moss  upon  the  rocks.  Soon  we  reach  the  region  of  perpet- 
ual snow  and  ice.  Into  this  we  may  indeed  make  some  progress, 
but  the  snows  grow  deeper  and  deeper,  the  air  feels  thin,  and  breath- 
ing becomes  difficult.  Deep  chasms  in  the  snow  and  ice,  which 
have  been  for  ages  accumulating,  at  last  shut  up  our  progress,  and 
our  journey  is  at  an  end. 

Mountains  lave  always  a  greater  declivity  on  one  side  than  the 


118  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

Other,  and  generally  that  which  is  nearest  the  sea  is  most  steep.  The 
Alps  have  a  much  more  abrupt  descent  on  the  Italian,  than  on  the 
Swiss  side ;  and  the  Himalaya  mountains  are  steepest  on  the  south- 
west. Almost  every  mountain  of  considerable  elevation  will  give 
evidence  of  the  same  fact.  A  series  of  mountains  having  the  same 
basis,  is  called  a  chain,  as  the  Uralian  chain,  which  separates  Eu- 
rope from  Asia,  and  the  Alleghany  chain  in  the  United  States. 

I  have  said  nothing  concerning  volcanoes,  as  I  mean,  before  longv 
to  devote  a  few  pages  to  that  interesting  and  wonderful  subject.  In 
the  mean  time,  try  and  think  what  causes  them.  Why  does  the 
earth  tremble  and  shake,  and  particular  mountains  send  forth  fire 
and  stones,  and  lava  ?  Some  people  assert  that  these  are  but  the 
vent-holes  to  the  internal  fires  forever  at  work  in  our  earth.  What 
say  you  ?     Examine  the  subject.     You  can't  help  being  interested. 


The    Ibex. 

This  pretty  animal,  of  the  goat  family,  resembles,  in  many  respects, 
the  Chamois,  in  its  habits,  though  its  horns  are  much  larger  and 
stronger.  It  is  now  rarely  met  with,  having  become  very  shy  and 
wild  from  the  encroachments  made  upon  its  race  by  the  Alpine 
hunters.  It  is  found,  however,  in  the  Alps,  on  the  Caucasian 
Mountains,  and  in  the  mountains  of  Abyssinia  in  Africa. 

Like  the  chamois,  it  loves  to  frequent  the  most  exalted  ranges,  near 
the  limits  of  perpetual  snow,  where  it  feeds  principally  upon  moss 
and  the  leaves  upon  the  low  bushes  which  grow  there.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly watchful,  and  difficult  of  approach,  on  account  of  the  delicacy 
of  its  senses  of  hearing  and  smell.  It  is  a  small  animal,  perhaps 
two  and  a  half  feet  in  height.  Its  color  changes  with  the  seasons, 
from  a  reddish  brown  in  summer  to  a  brown  gray  in  winter. 

The  ibex  is  hunted  for  its  fle.h  and  skin,  chiefly  the  latter.  When 
driven  to  desperation,  it  will  sometimes  turn  upon  its  pursuers  and 
butt  with  its  powerful  horns,  and  endeavor  io  drive  its  adversary  over 
tremendous  precipices. 


THE   IBEX. 


119 


An  ibex  was  once  tamed  by  a  family  of  Swiss  peasants,  living  far 
up  on  the  side  of  Mount  Rosa.  It  would  come  regularly  every  morn- 
ing to  receive  its  food  from  the  hands  of  its  friends,  unless  a  stran- 
ger was  there.  Then  it  would  keep  away,  altogether  out  of  sight. 
It  is  supposed  that  its  sense  of  smell  warned  the  animal  of  the  pres- 
ence of  an  enemy,  as  nothing  could  tempt  it  within  sight  during  the 
visit  of  a  stranger.     The  next  day,  however,  if  the  coast  was  clear, 


it  would  come  as  usual,  just  as  thongli  nothing  had  happened.  Ef- 
forts were  made  to  cheat  the  animal,  by  setting  up  an  effigy  with  a 
gun  near  the  house.  The  sagacious  beast,  however,  took  no  notice 
of  it,  but  came  fearlessly  for  several  days.  At  length,  a  peasant  from 
a  neighboring  village  was  dressed  up  to  appear  as  much  like  the 
figure  as  possible,  and  put  in  its  place,  but  Mr.  Ibex  was  not  to  be 
fooled,  and  did  not  appear.  His  sense  of  smell  was  a  match  for  the 
cunning  of  man. 


Has  one  served  thee  ?    Tell  it  to  many.    Hast  thou  served  many 
Tell  it  not. 


120  PICTORIAL  MISCELLANY. 


A  Gold  Watch. 

I  HAVE  now  in  my  hand  a  gold  watch,  which  combines  embellish- 
ment and  utility  in  happy  proportion,  and  is  usually  considered  a 
very  valuable  appendage  to  a  gentleman.  Its  hands,  face,  chain  and 
case,  are  of  chased  and  burnished  gold.  Its  gold  seals  sparkle  into 
the  ruby,  the  topaz,  the  sapphire,  the  emerald.  I  open  it,  and  find 
that  the  works,  without  which  this  elegantly  dressed  case  would  be  a 
mere  shell  —  these  hands  motionless,  and  these  figures  without  mean- 
ing—  are  made  of  brass.  I  investigate  further,  and  ask  what  is  the 
spring,  by  which  all  these  works  are  put  in  motion,  made  of?  I  am 
told  that  it  is  made  of  steel  —  I  ask,  what  is  steel?  The  reply  is, 
that  it  is  iron  which  has  undergone  a  chemical  process.  So,  then,  I 
find  that  the  main-spring,  without  which  the  watch  would  be  motion- 
less, and  its  hands,  figures,  and  embellishments  but  toys,  is  not  of 
gold  —  that  would  not  do  —  but  of  iron.  Iron  is,  therefore,  the  only 
precious  metal;  and  this  gold  watch  is  an  apt  emblem  of  society.  Its 
hands  and  figures,  which  tell  the  hours,  resemble  the  master  spirits  of 
the  age,  to  whose  movement  every  eye  is  occasionally  directed.  Its 
useless  but  sparkling  seals,  sapphires,  rubies,  topazes,  and  embellish- 
ments, the  aristocracy.  Its  works  of  brass,  the  middle  classes,  by 
the  increasing  intelligence  and  power  of  which,  the  master  spirits  of 
the  age  are  moved  ;  and  its  iron  main-spring,  shut  up  in  a  box,  but 
never  thought  of  except  when  it  is  disordered,  broken,  or  wants  wind- 
ing up,  symbolizes  the  laboring  classes,  which  are  ignorantly  or  su- 
perciliously called  the  lower  classes,  which,  like  the  main-spring,  are 
wound  up  by  the  payment  of  wages  ;  which  classes  are  shut  up  in 
obscurity  ;  and  though  constantly  at  work,  and  absolutely  necessary 
to  the  movements  of  society,  as  the  main-spring  is  to  the  gold  watch, 
are  never  thought  of,  except  when  they  require  their  wages,  or  are 
in  some  want  or  disorder  of  some  kind  or  other.  —  Edward  Everett, 


Thistle-Down. 


Sitting,  a  short  time  since,  by  my  window,  as  the  long  shadows 
across  the  landscape  were  losing  themselves  in  the  dim  approaching 


THISTLE-DOWN.  121 

twilight,  fancy  came  with  more  than  sunset  beauty,  and  around  me 
threw  the  cherished  shadows  of  the  past.  Distance  melted  away ; 
home  and  friends,  in  pure  and  sweet  communion,  were  present  to 
my  mind  —  all  in  varying  succession  came  and  went.  My  little 
Sabbath  class  seemed  clustered  around  me  as  they  were  wont  to  do  — 
Sarah,  Lucretia,  Celia,  Caroline  —  my  heart  was  glad,  and  ba^ 
them  welcome  to  my  thoughts.  The  moments  sped  swiftly  as  the 
shades  of  night  rolled  on,  and  when,  above  the  wooded  hill-tops,  the 
reflected  sunbeams  were  fading  from  the  east,  stars  came  gently 
glimmering. 

A  light  breeze  passed,  and  bore  upon  its  course  a  floating  whirl 
of  thistle-down  ;  a  moment  it  was  entangled  on  the  casement,  until 
a  friendly  breath  of  air  again  set  free  and  wafted  it  away.  Whence 
came  that  little  traveller  so  late  upon  its  journey?  Perhaps  for 
many  days  it  has  been  floating  thus  along,  and  many  more  might 
come  ere  it  should  fall  upon  the  open  soil  to  rest.  Or,  perhaps  it 
had  but  just  set  out,  and  ere  the  morning  dawn,  its  little  errand 
would  be  done.  To  us  it  is  all  the  same,  for  who  heeds  its  light 
passage,  or  asks  the  object  of  its  mission  forth  ?  Yet  let  us  not  for- 
get the  lesson  it  may  give ;  that  its  course  is  not  unguided,  but  it  is 
to  fall  upon  some  genial  sod,  and  when  the  wintry  storms  are  passed, 
the  little  seed  it  bears  will  bud  and  blossom. 

The  autumn  leaf,  which,  circling  round  and  round,  in  silence  falls 
upon  the  earth,  within  its  bosom  bears  no  seed,  the  embryo  promise 
of  another  spring  ;  but  the  winds  of  night  hurry  it  away  ;  the  snows 
of  winter  bury  it  in  brown  decay ;  its  freshness  can  never  be  re- 
stored; but  the  light  thistle-down,  in  the  still,  warm  hour,  comes 
forth  from  its  thorny  home,  and,  raised  aloft  upon  its  silver  plumage, 
passes  on  by  His  command  and  care,  whose  hand  supports  and  guides 
alike  its  airy  circle,  or  the  wheeling  orb  on  which  we  live. 

And  we,  like  it,  shall  pass  away.  To  us  it  is  unknown  whether 
the  weariness  and  woes  of  a  long  pilgrimage  be  ours,  or  to  be  gath- 
ered in  that  full,  unequal  harvest,  not  alone  of  ripened  fruit  and  ready 
bending  sheaves,  but  earliest,  fairest  flowers.  Nor  matters  it.  The 
priceless  gift  of  life,  with  all  its  sweet  endearments,  is  not  to  us  a 
blessing  if  its  noble  object  be  unfulfilled.  Permitted,  by  our  Saviour's 
constant  intercession,  still  to  rejoice  in  this  world  so  full  of  beauty, 


n2 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


let  US  not  forget  there  are  bright  visions  of  glory  and  beauty  in  the 
world  above  ;  here  are  the  lovely  and  beloved  of  our  bosoms,  lut  we 
are  to  prepare  ourselves  for  intercourse  with  the  angels,  for  the 
friendship  of  God  !  Here  are  spread  before  us  the  revelations  of  our 
Father's  attributes  —  so  deep,  mysterious  and  sublime,  that  we 
almost  shrink  before  them,  yet  these  are  but  the  rudiments  of  those 
lessons  it  will  be  our  bliss  to  learn  above ;  and  when  from  these  we 
•turn,  thirsting  for  fuller  displays,  then  shall  we  rise  and  be  led  to  the 
Fountain  of  knowledge.  With  adoration  on  our  lips,  we  shall  no 
longer  with  trembling  hand  f^■ca^cc  venture  to  turn  the  pages  of  His 
wisdom,  but,  encouraged  by  his. smile,  we  may  look  into  those  things 
we  know  not  now. 

Then  let  us  hasten  in  the  path  of  knowledge,  for  its  brightness 
will  lead  us  on  to  endless  life  and  liffht. 


Dog  Seller. 


The  Chinese. 

It  is  a  well  known 
fact  that  the  Chinese 
use  the  dog  as  an  arti- 
cle of  food,  and  it  is 
considered  by  them  an 
excellent  dish.  There 
is  one  particular  spe- 
cies, with  white  curled 
hair,  which  is  prefer- 
red to  all  others.  This 
is  a  great  luxury,  and 
can  only  be  ^ound  on 
the  tables  of  the  rich. 
The  cat  is  also  fat- 
J||&?^%^    tened  and  prepared  for 

e^:^^^";:^^^  been  assured  that  both 
the   dog  and  cat   are 


THE    CHINESE. 


123 


shut  up  by  themselves,  and  kept  on  wholesome  vegetable  diet,  before 
they  are  considered  fit  for  eating.  A  small  species  of  wild-cat  is 
caught  in  the  sor.hern  provinces,  which  is  considered  a  great  dainty, 
and  brings  a  great  price  in  the  market.  Rats  and  mice  are  eaten 
only  by  the  poor ;  but  they  are  often  seen  skinned  and  hanging  in 
long  rows,  on  sticks,  ready  for  sale. 

I  have  collected  the  following  facts,  which  may  be  interesting  la 
you.     If  not,  you  can  easily  skip  over  the  remainder  of  the  page. 

Pekin  has  winters  like  the  average  of  those  in  Boston,  and  sum- 
mers like  those  in  Washington. 

The  thermometer  ranges  from  about  10°  in  winter,  to   10e5°  ii> 
summer. 

Average  depth  of  rains  at  Canton  is  seventy  inches  per  annum. 

Pekin  was  made  the  capital  A.  D.  1411. 

The  foreign  factories  are  thirteen  in  number ;   they  are  a  mass  of 
huge  buildings,  sixty  rods  long  and  about  forty  deep. 

In  the  year  1627, 
(he  Tartar  rulers  of 
China  passed  a  law 
that  every  person  in 
the  empire  should 
have  all  the  hair  shav- 
ed from  their  heads, 
excepting  a  tuft  for  a 
braid,  or  tail,  in  the 
fashion  of  this  fruit- 
seller.  Some  persons 
were  allowed  two  tails, 
and  some  three,  ac- 
cording to  their  quali- 
ty ;  but  any  man  who 
refused  to  comply  with 
the  decree  was  pun- 
ished as  a  traitor. 
Many  submitted  to  the 
punish  nent  rather 
than  ta  lose  their  hair. 


''^'^»%^^^,01^^^^I^S^&^'^^^^^^^ 


124 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


One  eleventh  part  of  the  Chinese  live  upon  fish  and  other  products 
of  the  water.  They  sometimes  employ  the  cormorant  in  catching 
fish. 


The  average  yield  of  an  ordinary  tea-plant  is  six  ounces  at  a  pick- 
ing. 1000  square  feet  will  support  ahout  forty  plants.  The  times 
of  picking  are,  the  middle  of  April,  1st  of  May,  middle  of  July, 
and  a  small  quantity  gathered  in  August. 

In  Fuhkien,  and  Changchow,  (provinces  of  China,)  from  twenty- 
five  to  forty  out  of  a  hundred  of  the  female  children  are  destroyed  at 
birth.     In  other  parts  of  the  country  the  proportion  is  less. 

The  Sinim  mentioned  in  Isaiah  is  supposed  to  have  been  China. 
(Williams.) 

The  custom  of  cramping  the  feet  of  their  female  children  was 
introduced  ia  the  year  950.  When  the  infant  is  a  few  days  old,  all 
the  toes,  except  the  first,  are  turned  under  the  sole  of  the  foot  and 
bandaged  there,  making  the  foot  of  the  shape  of  a  wedge,  with  the 
two  hack  corners  rounded  oflT.  When  the  child  is  of  a  certain  age 
in  iron  shoe  is  put  on,  of  the  size  that  thf*  foot  is  intended  to  remain 


THE   CHINESE. 


ISf5 


and  it  is  suffered  to  grow  no  more.  These  little  feet  are  called 
golden  lilies,  and  are  considered  a  mark  of  rank,  as  none  of  the  poor 
people  cripple  their  children  in  this  manner.       Sometimes   these 


ladies  *of  the  golden  lily,   who  have  met  with  revtjrses,  and  are 
reduced  to  poverty,  may  be  seen  tottling  about  the  streets,  asking 


126  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

charity.  They  limp  along  in  the  most  awkward  and  painful  man- 
ner, and  generally  excite  great  compassion. 

This  custom  is  confined  entirely  to  the  native  Chinese,  and  was 
never  followed  by  the  Tartars,  who,  on  the  contrary,  wear  shoes 
with  soles  two  or  three  inches  thick,  longer  than  the  foot,  and  turned 
up  in  front,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  Chinese  pictures. 

Long  nails  are  also  considered  a  badge  of  rank,  and  are  cherished 
with  the  greatest  care.  Little  cases,  made  of  bamboo,  to  fit  the 
finger,  are  worn  at  night,  to  prevent  the  nails  being  broken  during 
sleep. 

China  was  made  known  to  Europe  by  Ptolemy. 

The  first  English  vessel,  under  Capt.  Weddel,  visited  Canton  in 
the  year  1687. 

Trade  between  China  and  America  commenced  in  1784, 

Formerly,  all  trade  with  foreigners  was  transacted  by  sixteen  per- 
sons appointed  by  the  Chinese  government,  called  Hong  merchants, 
these  merchants  were  heavily  taxed  by  their  rulers,  and  paid  them- 
selves by  charging  high  prices  for  their  goods;  and  as  there  was  no 
competition,  this  was  submitted  to. 

Formerly,  ships  on  arriving  here  paid  the  mandarin  of  the  port 
a  present,  amounting  to  2  or  3000  dollars,  for  a  permission  to  trade. 

Since  the  English  war  the  board  of  Hong  merchants  has  been 
abolished,  and  all  persons  may  trade  with  the  Fauquies,  (as  the 
English  are  called.) 

The  current  coin  of  the  country  is  a  small  piece  of  copper,  of  the 
value  of  a  mill ;  they  are  used  in  bunches  of  100,  strung  together  by 
a  square  hole  in  the  centre.  The  bunch  is  called  a  mace.  Foreign 
dollars  are  much  used  in  trade,  but  they  are  marked  by  each  one 
who  pays  them  out,  and  become  very  much  defaced ;  they  are  then 
called  chop  dollars. 


What  is  Brandy  made  of? 


A  chief  of  the  Ottaway  Indians,  called  White  John,  being  once  asked 
what  he  thought  brandy  to  be  vmde  of,  answered,  that  he  believed  it  must  be 
made  of  hearts  and  tongues  ;  for  when  he  had  drank  plentifully  of  it  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  a  thousand  hearts,  and  could  talk  much  faster,  louder,  and  longer 
than  when  sober. 


fiUMMEB. 


127 


By    MARKS    BROTHEl?, 


Summer,  bright  summer,  is  spreading-  again 

Her  sweet-scented  flowers  o'er  mountain  and  glen ; 

The  gay  birds  are  tenderly  nursing  their  young 

In  the  nest  so  securely  on  the  bending  branch  hung. 


128  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

All  nature  is  busy —  the  mowers  at  dawn 
Are  swinging  their  scythes  on  the  flowering  lawn, 
While  the  damsels  so  bhthe  in  the  fields  all  the  day 
With  songs  lighten  labor  while  making  the  hay. 

There  the  infants  are  mimicking  labor,  you  see, 
As  they  sport  on  the  grass  in  their  innocent  glee : 
Their  light  hearts  as  yet  know  no  sorrow  nor  care, 
But  are  cheerful  and  buoyant,  and  free  as  the  air. 

O  blest  rural  scenes,  in  the  country,  away 
From  the  city's  wild  din,  both  by  night  and  by  day  ; 
There  the  hot  cheek  is  fanned  by  the  balmy  fresh  breeze, 
And  labor  finds  rest  beneath  blossoming  trees ! 

The  hum  of  the  insects,  the  warbling  of  birds, 
The  song  of  the  milk-maid,  the  lowing  of  herds, 
Drive  sorrow  away  from  the  grief-smitten  heart, 
And  the  gladness  of  youth  to  the  aged  impart. 


( 


Wishes. 

"  How  I  wish  I  had  a  rocking-horse,"  said  Harry  Curtis,  as  he 
threw  down  a  broom-stick  he  had  been  riding;  "  what  nice  sport  I 
would  have  this  vacation  ! " 

*'  And  I  wish  I  had  a  wax  doll,"  said  his  sister  Mary  Ann,  "  all 
dressed  like  Emma's." 

"  O,"  said  cousin  Emma,  "  if  some  good  fairy,  such  as  I  have 
read  of,  would  rise  up  and  grant  us  our  wishes  —  " 

"  How  many  fine  toys  I  would  have,"  cried  Harry.  "  What 
would  you  wish  for  Emma  ^  " 

"Money  enough  to  buy  who,!*"*"  I  might  want,"  answered  his 
cousin. 

Just  then  Mr.  Curtis,  who  had  seemed  busily  reading  a  paper  in 
the  further  part  of  the  room,  rose  and  came  towards  the  children. 
"  Tell  us  a  story,  papa,"  cried  Harry,  "tell  us  a  pretty  story."  "  Po, 
papa"  and  "  Do,  good  uncle,"  joined  the  little  girls. 

"  Well,  my  children,  your  conversation  just  now  reminded  me  of 
a  fable  I  have  heard.    I  will  tell  it  to  vou,  and  talk  with  you  a  little 


WISHES. 


12^ 


about  wishes."    "  Thank  you,"  "  Do  so,"  interrupted  the  little  folks, 
and  Mr.  Curtis  thus  oegan  — 

An  honest  old  Scotchman  and  his  wife  were  sitting  one  evening 
by  their  cottage  fire,  and  they  chanced  to  be  talking  of  the  good  which 
riches  would  do  them,  and  how  many  nice  things  they  would  have, 
if  they  could  afford  them,  when  all  at  once  a  bright  fairy  stood  before 
them  "  Wish  three  wishes,"  said  she,  "  and  they  shall  be  granted 
you."  Visions  of  splendid  happiness,  such  as  they  had  not 
thought  of  till  then,  rose  up  before  them,  and  tliey  determined  to 
consider  well  and  wish  wisely.  But  while  they  w^re  thus  silently 
considering  what  they  would  wish,  a  feeling  of  hungry  uneasiness 
came  over  the  old  man,  and  he  spoke  out  unconsciously,  "  I  wish  I 
had  a  yard  of  black  pudding."  No  sooner  had  he  said  it  than  there 
was  the  pudding  before  him.  The  old  woman,  enraged  that  one  of 
the  three  golden  chances  should  be  thus  thrown  away, exclaimed,  "  1 
wish  it  was  on  the  end  of  your  nose."  And  there  it  was — the  yard 
of  black  pudding  on  *he  end  of  his  nose.  Si^ized  with  horror  the  old 
man  cried,  "  I  wish  it  was  off  again."  It  was  off  in  an  instant,  and 
the  fairy  had  vanished,  leaving  the  old  couple  just  as  well  off  as 
thoy  were  before  the  "  three  wishes." 

''  That  is  a  funny  story  papa  —  but  we  should  not  be  so  foolish  ;, 
we  should  not  be  like  them." 

"  You  would  be  like  them  in  one  respect,  even  if  you  did  not  for-v 
get  your  wish.     You  would  be  no  happier  for  the  fairy  visit." 

"  Not  with  so  many  nice  toys,  papa''? " 

"  As  soon  as  you  had  them  you  would  wish  for  something  else 
just  as  much." 

"But  my  wish,"  said  cousin  Emma,  "would  be  better.  If  I  had 
plenty  of  money,  when  I  was  tired  of  one  thing  I  could  buy  another, 
and  always  have  what  I  wanted." 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Curtis,  "  your  wish,  though  more  comprehen-. 
.?ive,  is  no  wiser  than  the  others.  You  would  prize  nothing  you 
could  obtain  so  easily,  and  you  would  find  springing  up  a  thousand 
wants,  which  money  could  not  satisfy.  Believe  me,  my  children, 
with  all  your  real  wants  supplied  you  could  not  be  so  situated  as  to 
have  fewer  wishes  than  you  havo-  now,  unless  you  should  learn  the 
secret  discovered  by  a  wise  roan  of  olden  time." 
9 


130  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

"  A  secret  ? "  cried  Harry ;  "  tell  us  about  it." 

"I  must  be  careful,  my  boy,  or  you  will  get  another  story  out  of 
me,  but  it  shall  be  very  short.  A  great  many  years  ago,  a  wise  old 
man  gave  notice  that  he  had  found  out  a  secret,  by  means  of  which 
all  persons  could  have  just  what  they  liked ;  and  he  appointed  a  cer- 
tain day  when  he  would  make  it  known  to  all  who  wished  to  profit 
by  it.  At  the  appointed  time  there  came  to  him  a  great  many  of 
those  who  were  not  satisfied  with  their  lot,  and  he  thus  addressed 
them  :  —  My  friends,  you  can  all  have  just  what  you  like,  simply  by 
liking  what  you  have." 

The  children  were  a  little  disappointed  at  this  story,  but  after 
tfimking  of  it  awhile,  they  agreed  to  try  to  learn  the  old  man's  les- 
son, and  to  enjoy  whatever  tliey  might  have  without  wishing  in  vain 
for  fairy  favors. 


The  Little  Girl  and  the  Shell. 

When  1  went  to  visit  a  friend,  the  other  day,  I  saw  a  little  girl, 
who  sat  on  a  low  seat  by  the  fire-side,  and  held  in  her  hand  a  pretty 
white  sea-shell,  tinged  with  pink,  which  she  placed  against  her  ear ; 
and  all  the  while  a  settled  calm  rested  upon  her  face,  and  she  seemed 
•as  if  she  was  listening  to  the  tones  of  some  loved  voice  ;  then  taking 
the  shell  away  from  her  ear,  she  would  gaze  upon  it  with  a  look  of 
deep  fondness  and  pensive  delight.  At  last  I  said,  "  What  are  you 
doing,  my  dear?"  "I  am  listening  to  the  whisper,"  she  replied. 
"  What  whisper  ? "  I  asked.  "  The  whisper  of  the  sea,"  she  said. 
Then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  she  added,  "  My  uncle  sent  me  this 
shell,  and  with  it  a  letter,  in  which  he  said,  that  if  I  placed  it  against 
my  ear,  I  should  hear  the  whisper  of  the  sea ;  and  he  also  said,  he 
would  soon  come  to  us,  and  bring  me  a  great  many  pretty  things ; 
and  mamma  said,  when  she  heard  the  whisper  of  the  shell,  that  we 
should  call  it  uncle  Henry's  promise.  And  so  it  became  very  pre- 
cious to  me,  and  I  love  its  sound  better  than  sweet  music."  "  And 
where  is  uncle  Henry  now?  "  I  asked.  "  He  is  in  heaven  now,"  she 
replied;  "he  never  came  to  us,  as  we  hoped  he  would,  for  he  died 
far  away,  and  his  grave  is  in  the  sea ;  and  so  now,  when  I  listen  to 
the  Ghell,  I  fancy  that  the  saa  whispers,  in  the  same  soft  manner 


TO    DAFFODILS. 


131 


above  my  uncle  Henry's  grave.  And  sometimes,  when  I  listen,  I 
*hink  he  whispers  to  rne  from  heaven,  and  tells  me  to  be  a  good 
:hild  !"  I  now  saw  a  tear  stealing  dowji  her  cheek,  but,  wiping  it 
away,  she  added,  "  It  was  not  the  pretty  things,  he  said  he  would 
bring,  that  I  wished  for,  but  to  see  my  dear  uncle  Henry.  He 
never  came,  nor  ever  will  come,  but  I  shall  see  him  some  day,  if  I 
listen  to  his  whisper,  which  seems  to  tell  me  of  heaven,  and  to  bid 
me  to  be  ready  to  go  there." 


-.^3-.^2^.^US)3^:i^^i*<2i>«-< 


To  Daffodils. 

Fair  Daflbdils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon  : 
As  yet  the  early-rising  sun 
Has  not  attained  his  noon. 

Stay,  stay, 

Until  the  hastening  day 

Has  run 

But  to  the  even-song ; 
And,  having  pray'd  together,  we 

Will  go  with  you  along! 

We  have  short  time  to  stay  as  yqu, 

We  iiave  as  short  a  spring  ; 
As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay, 
As  you  or  anything. 
We  die, 

As  yo\ir  hours  do,  and  dry 
Away 

Like  to  the  summer's  rain, 
Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning  dew 
Ne'er  to  be  found  again. — Herrick 


The  Story  of  a  Little  Lamb. 

h  was  on  a  soft  morning  in  May,  when  a  certain  little  lamb  was 
called  from  sleep  by  the  tinkling  of  the  sheep-bell.  Slowly  he  raised 
his  head,  still  keeping  his  fore  feet  bent  under  his  bosom,  and  looked 
with  a  sleepy  eye  after  his  mother,  w^ho  had  just  trotted  away  from 
h's  side.     Again  the  bell  sounded,  and  the  pretty  little  lamb  rose 


132  FICXaRIAL   MISCELLAHT, 

upon  his  feet,  and  was  soon  leaping  by  his  mother's  side  Now, 
the  field  in  which  these  sheep  dwelt  was  a  t  ace  of  great  beauty ; 
the  verdant  hill,  the  sparkling  streamlet,  the  shady  tree,  the  green 
pasture,  were  all  there ;  it  seemed  a  quiet  fold  apart  from  the  rest 
of  the  world  —  a  pleasant  place  on  purpose  for  that  happy  little 
flock.  Now,  the  little  lamb  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  was  the 
darling  of  the  flock  ;  no  other  had  so  white  a  fleece,  so  mild  an  eye, 
so  gentle  a  nature.  One  day,  as  this  little  lamb  was  playing  by  him- 
self, at  a  short  distance  from  the  fold,  he  was  espied  by  an  eagle, 
who  no  soonerbeheld  him  than  he  darted  down,  and,  seizing  him  in 
his  talons,  bore  him  far  away  from  tlie  litlle  flock.  O  !  it  was  sad 
to  see  the  sheep  look  after  their  darling  lamb ;  and  the  poor  little 
Iamb  once  caught  the  distant  tinkling  of  the  sweet  bell  it  had  so 
loved  to  follow.  Now,  as  the  eagle  was  flying  over  a  valley,  an 
archer  shot  an  arrow  which  went  into  its  heart,  and  it  fell  with  the- 
lamb  at  the  archer's  feet.  Then,  the  archer  took  the  lamb  home  to 
his  child,  and  bade  him  take  care  of  the  poor  little  creature.  Now, 
the  child  had  a  tender  heart,  and  he  took  the  lamb,  and  bathed  it; 
wounds,  and  washed  the  blood  from  its  snowy  fleece,  and  wept 
But  the  lamb  began  to  revive,  and  the  child  was  glad ;  and  he  tool^ 
a  silken  cord,  and  placed  it  about  his  neck,  and  led  the  lamb  about 
with  him  wherever  he  went ;  and  in  the  joy  of  his  heart  he  thought 
the  lamb  must  be  as  happy  as  hiniself.  But  it  pined  for  the  loss  of 
its  mother's  love,  and  the  peace  it  had  kno-wn  ajnid  the  happy  little 
flock  in  the  far-ofl*  fold.  One  summer  day,  the  child,  being  weary 
with  long  rambling,  fell  asleep  on  a  bank  of  flowers,  still  holding  the 
silken  cord  tightly  in  his  hand ;  but  looser  and  looser  it  became,  till 
it  slipped  away  from  his  grasp,  and  the  little  lamb  fled  away  from 
his  side  forever. 

Onward  and  onward  went  the  lamb,  not  knowing  whither.  After 
a  time  it  began  to  rain,  and  the  thunder  rolled  and  the  lightning 
flashed.  The  poor  little  lamb  trembled  ;  but  when  the  thunder  was 
not  heard  for  a  moment  he  forgot  his  sorrows,  and  stopped  to  nibble 
a  daisy  ;  then,  startled  by  a  sudden  flash,  he  looked  up  in  terror,  and 
was  again  driven  onward  by  the  loud  pealing  thunder.  On  he  went 
over  a  wide  common,  till  he  came  to  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill,  whi<;h 
with  weary  feet^  he  climbed;  but  when  he  had  gained  the  sunnnit, 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE.  133 

weak  and  trembling,  he  laid  iown  to  die  ;  his  eyes  became  dim 
and  his  heart  beat  faintly  in  his  bosom:  but  the  thought  of  his 
mother  and  the  peaceful  fold,  the  sweet  flowers,  and  all  things  he 
had  loved  in  the  first  happy  moments  of  his  little  life,  were  presei-t 
to  his  eye :  and  the  poor  lamb  closed  his  eyes  in  sorrow. 

But  as  his  heart  grew  more  faint,  he  was  startled  by  the  tinkling 
of  a  distant  bell;  and  slowly  raising  his  head,  he  beheld  his  own 
little  flock  in  their  own  happy  fold  ;  and  new  life  awoke  in  his  heart, 
and  new  light  shone  from  his  eye,  and  new  strength  came  to  his 
feet,  and  in  a  moment  more  the  lost  lamb  was  by  his  mother's  side, 
telling  how  he  had  been  called  back  to  life  by  the  tinkling  of  that 
sweet  sheep-bell. 


Napoleon  Bonaparte* 

My  little  readers  know  that  Napoleon  was,  not  many  years  ago, 
the  emperor  of  France.  Their  parents  remember  when  he  was  a 
great  conqueror,  and  the  terror  of  the  world.  Like  us  all,  he  was 
otice  a  child.  He  was  a  poor  boy.  His  remarkable  genius  and  en- 
ergy raised  him  to  the  highest  eminence ;  but  his  ambition  finally 
overthrew  him.  He  died  in  the  stnmgth  of  manhood,  upon  a  deso- 
late island,  almost  alone,  and  a  prise  ner.  I  have  a  few  anecdotes  to 
tell  you  of  him  when  a  youth.  In  them  you  may  discover  a  por- 
trait of  delicacy,  energy  and  perseverance;  which  you  may  emulate. 
But  that  violent  temper  was  bad  ;  be  unlike  him  in  that  respect.  I 
give  you  these  facts  about  him  as  related  by  Madame  Junot,  one  of 
his  particular  friends.  Signora  Lcetitia  was  the  mother  of  Napo- 
leon ;  Saveria  was  his  nurse.     Now  for  the  stories : — 

He  was  one  day  accused  by  one  of  his  sisters  of  having  e&ten  a 
basket  full  of  grapes,  figs,  and  citrons,  which  had  come  from  the 
garden  of  his  uncle  the  canon.  None  but  those  who  were  acquainted 
with  the  Bonaparte  family  can  form  any  idea  of  the  enormity  of  this 
offence.  To  eat  fruit  belonging  to  the  uncle  the  canon  was  infinitely 
more  criminal  than  to  eat  grapes  and  figs  which  might  be  claimed 
by  anybody  e  se.  An  inquiry  took  place.  Napoleon  denied  the 
fact,  and  was  whipped.  He  was  told  that  if  he  would  beg  pardon 
he  should  be  forgi  -en.     He  protested  that  he  was  innocent,  but  he 


134  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

was  not  believed.  If  I  recollect  rightly,  his  mother  was  at  the  time 
on  a  visit  to  M.  de  Marbeuf,  or  some  other  friend.  The  result  of 
Napoleon's  obstinacy  was,  that  he  was  kept  three  whole  days  upon 
bread  and  cheese.  However,  he  would  not  cry  :  he  was  dull,  but 
not  sulky.  At  length,  on  the  fourth  day  of  his  punishment,  a  little 
friend  of  Marianne  Bonaparte  returned  from  the  country,  and,  on 
hearing  of  Napoleon's  disgrace,  she  confessed  that  she  and  Marianne 
had  eaten  the  fruit.  It  was  now  Marianne's  turn  to  be  punished. 
When  Napoleon  was  asked  why  he  had  not  accused  his  sister,  he 
replied,  that  though  he  suspected  that  she  was  guilty,  yet,  out  of  con- 
sideration to  her  little  friend,  who  had  no  share  in  the  falsehood,  he 
had  said  nothing.     He  was  then  only  seven  years  of  age. 

This  fact,  which  would  have  been  nothing  extraordinary  in  any 
other  child,  appeared  to  me  worthy  of  a  place  among  recollections 
which  are  connected  with  the  whole  life  of  Napoleon.  It  is  some- 
what characteristic  of  the  man.  I  ought  to  add  that  the  affair  was 
never  forgotten  by  Napoleon.  Of  this  I  observed  a  proof  in  1801,  at 
a  fete  given  by  Madame  Bacciochi  (formerly  Marianne  Bonaparte) 
at  Neuilly,  where  she  resided  with  Lucien. 

Saveria  told  me  that  Napoleon  was  never  a  pretty  boy,  as  Joseph 
riad  been ;  his  head  always  appeared  too  large  for  his  body  —  a  defect 
common  to  the  Bonaparte  family.  When  Napoleon  grew  up,  the 
peculiar  charm  of  his  countenance  lay  in  his  eye,  especially  in 
the  mild  expression  it  assumed  in  his  moments  of  kindness.  His 
anger,  to  be  sure,  was  frightful,  and  though  I  am  no  coward,  I  never 
could  look  at  him  in  his  fits  of  rage  without  shuddering.  Though 
his  smile  was  captivating,  yet  the  expression  of  his  mouth  when  dis- 
dainful or  angry  could  scarcely  be  seen  without  terror.  But  that 
forehead,  which  seemed  formed  to  bear  the  crowns  of  a  whole  world  ; 
those  hands,  of  which  the  most  coquettish  women  might  have  been 
vain,  and  whose  white  skin  covered  muscles  of  iron  ;  in  short,  of  all 
that  personal  beauty  which  distinguished  Napoleon  as  a  young  man, 
no  traces  were  discernible  in  the  boy.  Saveria  spoke  truly  wheji 
she  J  did,  that  of  all  the  children  of  Signora  Loetitia,  the  emperor 
was  the  on'}  from  whom  future  greatness  was  least  to  be  prognosti- 
cated. 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE. 


135 


Previously  to  his  departure  from  school  to  the  army,  he  came  to 
pass  some  time  at  our  house.  My  sister  was  the  i  at  her  convent, 
\  ut  she  frequently  came  home  while  Napoleon  was  with  us.  I  well 
recollect  that,  on  the  day  when  he  first  put  on  his  uniform,  he  was 
as  vain  as  young  men  usually  are  on  such  an  occasion.  There  was 
one  part  of  his  dress  which  had  a  very  droll  appearance — that  was 
his  boots.  They  were  so  high  and  wide  that  his  little  thin  legs 
seemed  buried  in  their  amplitude.  Young  people  are  always  ready 
to  observe  anything  ridiculous ;  and  as  soon  as  my  sister  and  I  saw 
Napoleon  enter  the  drawing-room,  we  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laugh- 
ter. At  that  early  age,  as  well  as  in  after  life,  Bonaparte  could  not 
relish  a  joke  ;  and  when  he  found  himself  the  object  of  merriment, 
he  grew  angry.  My  sister,  who  was  some  years  older  than  I,  told 
him,  that  since  he  wore  a  sword,  he  ought  to  be  gallant  to  ladies; 
and  instead  of  being  angry,  should  be  happy  that  they  joked  with 
him.  "You  are  nothing  but  a  child  —  a  little  pensionnaire"  said 
Napoleon,  in  a  tone  of  contempt.  Cecile,  who  was  twelve  or  thir- 
teen years  of  age,  was  highly  indignant  at  being  called  a  child,  and 
she  hastily  resented  the  affront,  by  replying  to  Bonaparte,  "  And  you 
are  nothing  but  a  puss  in  loots^  This  excited  a  general  laugh 
among  all  present  except  Napoleon,  whose  rage  I  will  not  attempt  to 
describe.  Though  not  much  accustomed  to  society,  he  had  too 
much  tact  not  to  perceive  that  he  ought  to  be  silent  when  personali- 
ties were  introduced,  and  his  adversary  was  a  woman. 

Though  deeply  mortified  at  the  unfortunate  nickname  which  my 
sister  had  given  him,  yet  he  affected  to  forget  it;  and  to  prove  that 
he  cherished  no  malice  on»the  subject,  he  got  a  little  toy  made  and 
gave  it  as  a  present  to  me.  This  toy  consisted  of  a  cat  in  boots,  in 
the  character  of  a  footman  running  before  the  carriage  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  Carabas.  It  was  very  well  made,  and  must  have  been  rather 
expensive  to  him,  considering  his  straitened  finances.  He  brought 
along  with  it  a  pretty  little  edition  of  the  popular  tale  of  Puss  in 
Boots,  which  he  presented  to  my  sister,  begging  her  to  keep  it  as  a 
token  of  his  remembrance.  "  Oh,  Napoleon,"  said  my  mother,  "  if 
you  had  merely  given  the  toy  to  Loulou  it  would  have  been  all  very 
well;  but  the  tale  for  Cecile  shows  that  ycu  are  still  offended  with 
her."     He    gave  his  word  to  the  contra' y  ;  but   I  think  with  my 


136  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

mother  that  some  little  feeling  of  resentment  was  still  rankling  in 
his  mind. 


Poetry  for  my  Old  Friends, 

One  of  my  favorite  associates  has  furnished  me  the  following 
article  for  my  Miscellany.  It  is  excellent  poetry.  So  my  young 
friends  will  say;  yet  they  miy  not  be  able  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  it  so  much  as  they  will  wh  j  have  been  away  from  home,  and  who 
have  meditated  on  the  pleasures  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne."  Show  it 
to  father  and  mother.  Read  it  to  grandmother,  but  tell  her  not  to 
cry.  Read  it  to  grandfather,  and,  my  word  for  it,  he  will  repay  you 
by  some  interesting  tale  of  by-gone  days. 

The  Child  and  the  Musical  Box. 

BY    ONEIDA    SEATON. 

Listening  to  music,  thou  fair  child — 

How  glad  thy  face  appears. 
How  full  of  light  those  clear  blue  eyes, 

Unfaded  yet  by  tears ! 
As  warbles  in  those  fairy  tones 

The  strains  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home," 
What  pleasant  phantoms  to  the  mind 

Of  blissful  childhood  come  ! 

Now,  thou  art  sitting  by  the  fire. 

Upon  thy  mother's  knee  ; 
Now,  through  the  summer  woods  and  fields 

Thy  brother  plays  with  thee. 
No  bitter  recollection  comes 

To  wring  thy  heart  with  pain  ; 
No  thought  of  dear  companions  gone, 
^  Ne'er  to  r3turn  again. 

But,  lo !  while  yet  my  thoughts  are  borne 

Back,  by  that  well-known  air. 
And  half-forgotten  face  and  form 

Their  first  distinctness  wear,  — 
And  voices  that  have  thrilled  me  claim 

The  power  they  had  of  yore. 
The  cunning  instrument  has  changed 

The  air  it  plays  once  more. 


i 


THE    CHILD    AND    THE    MUSICAL    BOX. 

CUi,  little  child  !  how  canst  thou  lay 

That  box  close  to  thy  cheek, 
And  lake  such  pleasure  in  the  sound 

That  makes  me  sick  and  weaki 
It  cannot  play  but  those  two  airs, 

And  o'er  and  o'er  again 
It  plays  them,  till  the  dark  thoughts  piess 

Like  madness  on  my  brain. 

Yes ;  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  and  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,' 

Seem  full  as  sad  to  me 
As  would  the  grave  of  one  I  loved 

Beneath  our  trysting-tree. 
but  life  is  now  thy  budding  time 

Of  feelings  half  divine, 
And  thou  enjoyest  what  I  lost 

In  days  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

rhy  mother's  voice  is  in  that  strain. 

She  sings  it  oft  at  even, 
And  her  face  grows  meek  and  loving, 

And  her  eyes  are  raised  to  heaven. 
She  singeth  many  a  simple  song  — 

Thy  father  loves  them  well  — 
Hut  not  like  hers  the  voice  I  hear, 

Recalled  by  music's  spell. 

Canst  thou  not  hear  the  voice  I  hear 

My  inmost  soul  it  stirs  ; 
Sweet  as  thy  molher's  voice  it  is, 

Yet  deeper  fur  than  hers. 
It  singeth  from  a  full,  sad  heart, 

And  answer  finds  in  mine, — 
"  That  seas  between  us  broad  have  rollca 

Since  days  of  '  Auld  Lang  Spie.' "' 

Not  sea  alone,  which  skill  of  man 

Might  easily  pass  o'er, 
And  bring  us,  with  the  help  of  God, 

Safe  hand  in  hand  once  more ; 
But  seas  o'er  which  the  voyager, 

Jlowe'er  his  heart  may  yearn, 
Can  r,ever  to  the  friend  on  shore, 

H<^  wandered  from,  return. 


137 


188  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Yet  be  thou  happy  whilst  thou  may 

And  if  these  notes  should  seem 
Like  to  the  pleasant  music 

That  may  haunt  thee  in  a  dream ; 
If,  blended  with  home  voices, 

The  running  waters  sound, 
And  if  tender  singing  like  the  birds 

Makes  thy  light  heart  to  bound,  — 

Rejoice  !  ere  yet  the  melody 

Brings  only  thoughts  of  woe  ; 
Rejoice  !  ere  yet  thy  loved  one 

Through  the  "  low  green  door"  must  gc  ; 
Ere  like  the  waters  running 

On  a  way  far  off  and  lone, 
And  like  the  pleasant  summer  birds, 

Thy  joy  of  heart  has  gone. 


About  Angling, 

There  has  fallen  a  copious  shower.  Every  tree  and  plant  if 
dripping  with  the  moisture  with  which  the  hot  earth  is  cooled.  How 
the  fish  will  bite  now!  Let  us  take  our  rods  and  lines,  boys,  and 
try  our  luck  down  the  river,  on  the  new-mown  bank. 

Do  you  realize  how  pure  the  air  has  become  ?  How  much 
stronger  we  feel !     A  word  or  two  as  we  walk  along. 

The  atmosphere  is  composed  principally  of  two  gases,  —  oxygen 
and  nitrogen.  The  oxygen  supports  life  and  combustion.  It  makes 
about  one  fifth  of  the  whole  atmosphere.  A  less  proportion  makes 
us  feel  dull  and  heavy;  as  we  did  this  forenoon. 

Now  each  drop  of  rairj,  in  falling,  attracts  and  brings  to  the 
ground  particles  of  nitrogen.  These  particles  are  readily  absorbed 
by  plants,  and  this  is  why  things  grow  so  after  a  smart  fhower. 

But  stop !  —  here  's  a  grand  place  to  throw  in. 

Let  us  cover  our  hooks  well  with  the  bait,  and  sink  about  three 
feet. 

What  a  lovely  spot  this  is  !  The  river  seems  as  if  it  loved  to 
linger  under  these  over-hanging  trees,  whose  pendant  branches 
break  the  bubbles  that  come  sailin:r  down  from  the  dam  above, 


/ 
H 


ABOUT    ANGLING. 


139 


How  dark  the  water  looks !  and  yet  it  has  little  color. 

In  some  parts  of  the  world  the  ocean  is  perfectly  transparent. 
At  Hammerfest,  a  little  town  in  the  north  of  Norway,  the  fish  can 
be  seen  approaching  the  hook  at  the  depth  of  sixty  feet. 

But  these  fellows  don't  seem  to  relish  our  bait.  I  wonder  how 
long  before  we  shall  take  out  one  ?  It  .is  best  to  have  patience,  how- 
ever.    Fishing  affords  an  excellent  opportunity  to  try  it. 

I  remember  hearing  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  tell  of  passing  a 
quiet  neighbor,  early  one  summer  morning,  who  was  seated,  with 
rod  and  line,  upon  the  bank  of  a  shady  stream,  eagerly  watching- 
his  cork  float,  expecting  to  see  it  every  moment  disappear. 

Returning,  towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  he  discovered  his 
friend  still  there. 

"  Well,  what  luck  ?  "  was  the  question. 

"  Oh  I  "  said  the  philosophical  angler,  "  I  have  had  a  most  excel- 
lent nibble  !  " 

But  pull,  James  !  and  I  've  one,  too.  Well  done !  they  have  taken 
hold,  at  last. 

I  was  fishing,  a  hw  years  ago,  from  a  boat,  above  the  dam  yon- 
der, with  one  of  those  fancy  painted  corks  on  my  line.  I  had  got 
"  a  bite,"  and  was  drawing  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  fish  of  comfort- 
able size,  when  a  huge  pickerel,  thinking  my  float  a  richly  embel- 
lished frog,  jumped  and  swallowed  it.  My  pole  bent  almost  dou- 
ble with  the  increased  load,  but  I  succeeded  in  swinging  them  over 
the  boat,  when,  most  unluckily,  off  dropped  the  pickerel,  just  out- 
side. 

What !  hold  again  ?  Now,  this  is  what  I  call  sport.  What  a 
splendid  perch  !  We  shall  soon  have  enough  for  to-morrow's  dinner. 

I  came  to  this  same  spot,  when  a  boy,  with  a  young  cousin  of 
mine,  who  now  angles  for  customers  in  his  own  Boston  store. 

1  thought  we  had  very  good  luck,  but  he  quite  cut  me  down  with 
the  stories  he  told  me  of  the  big  fish  around  his  country  home. 

In  the  course  of  the  summer,  I  returned  his  visit,  and  tried  his 
fishing.  For  the  sake  of  his  pride  I  regret  we  were  so  very  unsuc- 
cessful. 

I  tried  all  my  persuasion  on  the  "big  fish,"  in  vain  ;  and,  boys, 
what  do  you  guess  he  drew  to  the  top  of  the  water,  after  screaming 
that  he  had  got  a  four  pounder?     A  great  overgrown  tortoise  ! 


140  FICTOKIAL    MISCELLANT. 

Poor  H hacked  into  that  fellow's  bony  corporation  for  a  good 

half-hour,  to  liberate  his  hook. 

I  remember  I  wound  up  my  line  then,  and  kindly  suggested  we 
had  better  try  something  besides  fishing! 

But  the  sun  is  setting,  and  let  us  pick  up  and  stnng  our  fish,  and 
start  for  home. 

Now,  be  careful,  bjys,  how  you  secure  your  hooks.  I  have  an 
ugly  scar,  which  I  got  by  carelessness.  1  was  running  by  a  build- 
ing, to  the  river,  witli  \ny^  rod  and  line.  The  hook  was  dangling 
below  my  fingers.  All  at  once  the  line  caught  on  a  nail,  and  up 
went  the  hook  into  my  hand.  Ugh  !  I  never  shall  forget  the  cut- 
ting of  it  out,  at  the  doctor's  office ;  and  whenever  I  see  a  boy,  now, 
careless  with  a  hook,  1  tell  him  the  story. 


"Logic." 

*♦  Does  Mr.  Freeman  keep  a  horse  ?  " 

-Yes." 

"  And  Uncle  Solomon,  too  ?  "  (two.) 

*'  No,  Uncle  Solomon  keeps  but  07ie." 

"Well,  what  did  I  say?" 

"  You  asked  me  if  he  kept  two  horses,  did  n't  you  ? " 

We  heard  this  dialogue,  and  were  reminded  of  an  anecdote,  old 
but  good. 

A  smart  collegian  sought  the  paternal  roof,  to  enjoy  Thanksgiv- 
ing;  and  undertook,  while  the  dinner  was  cooking,  to  display  his 
wisdom  before  his  good  parents. 

"Mother,"  said  he, '*  I  can  prove  to  you  that  there  are  three 
fowls." 

"How?"  said  the  good  lady,  with  a  condescending  smile,  glan- 
cing at  the  two  on  the  spit. 

"  Well,  here  is  one  ?  "     "Yes."     "And  this  is  two  ?"     "Yes.' 
"  Well,  two  and  one  make  three,  fast  enough." 
.  His  mother  said  nothing.    His  father,  however,  replied,  "  Perhaps 
you  are  right,  son ;   but  I  '11  take  the  first  chicken  for  my  dinner, 
vour  mother  will  the  second,  and  you  may  dine  on  the  third  !  " 


MY   FATHER. 


141 


# 


My    Father. 

Dear  Father,  while  daily  and  hourly  I  see 

New  proofs  of  your  tender  affection  for  me  ; 

It  may  please  you  to  know  how  your  kindness  has  won 

The  return  that  it  calls  for  —  the  love  of  a  son. 

Some  fathers  are  distant,  and  stern,  and  severe, 
They  speak  to  command,  and  they  govern  by  fear; 
Obedience,  indeed,  by  such  means  may  be  won, 
But  they  foil  in  securing  the  love  of  a  son. 


Your  praise,  my  dear  Father,  is  easy  to  earn, 
When  you  teach  me,  I  feel  it  a  pleasure  to  learn ; 
And  when  tasks  are  concluded,  and  duties  are  done. 
You  share  in  the  pastimes  and  sports  of  your  son. 

I  am  often  unthinking  and  idle,  'tis  true. 
But  I  freely  confess  all  my  follies  to  you  : 
You  tell  me  what  ways  to  pursue  and  to  shun, 
And  you  leniently  look  on  the  faults  of  your  soa. 


142  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Relax  not  your  cares,  dearest  Father,  I  pray, 

I  shall  need  your  kind  counsels  through  life's  busy  way ; 

Continue  the  system  so  wisely  begun, 

And  still  be  the  friend  and  the  guide  of  your  son. 


Adolphus  and  James. 

Adolphtts  was  the  son  of  a  merchant  residing  in  Paris ;  James 
was  the  child  of  a  farmer  who  lived  in  a  retired  hamlet  in  the  bosom 
of  the  mountains.  Nevertheless,  these  two  boys  of  twelve  and  thir- 
teen, so  different  in  their  fortune,  education  and  habits,  resembled 
each  other  closely  in  disposition ;  both  had  a  large  share  of  vanity. 
They  had  a  lively  desire  to  exalt  themselves  by  humbling  others ; 
and  I  am  about  to  relate  to  you  the  history  of  a  few  days  in  their 
lives,  to  show  you  the  methods  they  took  to  accomplish  this ;  you 
will  see  in  the  sequel  what  a  good  lesson  they  both  received,  and 
h!3w  completely  their  pride  was  humbled. 

Durand,  the  father  of  James,  was  a  farmer  on  the  estate  of  M, 
Valcourt,  the  father  of  Adolphus.  He  was  accustomed  to  go  to 
Paris  every  year  to  settle  his  accounts  with  his  landlord.  He  once 
took  a  fancy  to  have  little  James  accompany  him  there.  James  had 
never  been  beyond  his  mountains,  and  knew  nothing  more  beautiful, 


ADOLPHUS    AND    JAMES.  143 

nothing  more  grand,  than  his  village,  which  contained  fewer  inhab- 
itants than  there  are  lodgers  in  a  single  hotel  in  Paris.  Brought  up 
on  a  farm,  fed  on  potatoes,  having  never  opened  a  book,  you  may 
imagine  his  astonishment  on  entering  a  great  city,  and  being  seated, 
on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  in  a  vast  and  elegant  house,  at  the  splendid 
table  of  M.  Valcourt.  On  seeing  all  these  wonders,  the  thought 
which  occupied  him  most  was  the  pleasure  which  he  should  have, 
on  his  return  to  his  hamlet,  in  saying  to  the  little  peasants,  his  com- 
panions : 

"  I  have  seen  a  house  more  beautiful  than  our  church ;  pictures 
larger  than  those  in  the  chapel.  I  have  seen  domestics  whose  coats 
were  embroidered  with  gold  and  silver.  I  have  been  seated  at  table 
by  the  side  of  a  great  lady." 

But  while  he  was  examining  everything  in  the  house  with  an  air 
of  surprise  and  curiosity,  Adolphus,  who  had  made  acquaintance 
with  him  from  the  very  first,  was  resolving  to  amuse  himself  with 
his  ignorance,  and  seized  with  eagerness  upon  every  occasion  in 
which  he  could  make  him  feel  it.  Thus,  one  day  he  made  him 
believe  that  a  servant  wearing  a  gilded  coat  and  hat  with  feathers 
v^'as  the  King  of  France,  ar)d  persuaded  him  to  salute  him  and  kiss 
his  hand.  On  the  day  of  his  arrival,  when  he  was  admitted  to  the 
same  table,  he  made  him  drink,  under  pretence  that  this  was  cus- 
tomary, of  two  large  bowls  of  warm  water  which  were  served  at  the 
end  of  dinner  to  rinse  the  mouth  and  wash  the  tips  of  the  fingers. 
Adolphus  made  him  also  eat  the  large  end  of  the  asparagus,  and 
suck  the  artichokes  on  the  side  where  the  sharpest  teeth  could  not 
bite  them.  Finally,  Adolphus  took  pains  to  display  all  his  city 
knowledge  before  the  poor  peasant.  In  his  presence  he  pretended 
to  touch  his  mother's  piano  and  to  paint  in  his  father's  study.  At 
another  time  he  turned  over  all  the  books  in  the  library,  assumed 
airs  of  importance,  ordered  the  domestics  about,  and  played  a  thou- 
sand tricks  to  impose  on  our  astonished  mountaineer. 

One   day,  when  they  were  both  pk.ying  alone  in  a  room  where 
there  was  a  parrot,  they  suddenly  heard  a  hoarse  voice  imitating  the 
sound  of  a  drum  :  "  Rub-a-dub,  rub-a-dub,  rub-a-dub ! "    James,  sur- 
prised, turned  and  saw  no  one.     The  hoarse  voice  re-commenced 
"  Rub-adub,  dub,  dub  I " 


144  PICtOKIAL   MISCELLANY. 

"  What  is  that?"  said  James  to  Adolphus. 

"  It  is  the  parrot  talking." 

"  How  !  can  that  green  bird  talk  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly;  you  shall  see." 

At  the  same  instant,  by  a  happy  coincidence  for  Adolphus,  the 
parrot  cried,  "  James^  James  /" 

•'  He  is  calling  me,"  said  James. 

"  Oh  !  how  amusing  that  ij !  but  can  he  say  anything?' 

"  Cenainly,  he  talks  like  any  other  person.  I  will  carry  on  a 
conversation  with  him."  And  here  the  mischievous  Adolphus 
asked  the  parrot  the  only  question  to  which  he  could  reply,  "  Have 
yo26  breakfasted,  Jaco  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  ! " 

"  You  see  how  he  talks ;  but  speak  to  him  yourself;  as  for  me,  I 
hear  the  bell  for  breakfast,  and  must  run." 

Adolphus  ran  off,  shut  the  door,  and  left  the  two  interlocutors 
together.  Then  the  following  conversation  took  place  between 
James  and  the  parrot. 

James.    "  Have  you  breakfasted,  Jaco  ?" 

The  Parrot.    *»  Rub-a-dub,  dub,  dub  !  " 

James.    "  That  is  not  it :  I  asked  if  you  had  breakfasted  ? " 

And  the  parrot  continued  to  repeat,  "  Rub-a-dub,  dub,  dub."" 

James.    "  Answer  me,  then,  simpleton  !     Have  you  breakfasted  ? " 

The  Parrot.    "  Carry — arms  ! " 

James,  out  of  patience,  and  believing  that  the  malicious  bird  was 
doing  this  from  ill-will,  attempted  to  compel  him  to  reply  by  giving 
him  a  tap  on  the  wing;  he  reached  out  his  hand ;  the  parrot  bit  his 
finger,  and  James  cried  out.  He  suspected  that  Adolphus  had 
deceived  him,  and  that  his  parrot  could  not  talk  any  better  than  the 
geese  in  his  father's  barn-yard,  who  said  quack,  quack,  quack,  and 
nothing  else.  Then  he  tried  to  go  out,  but  the  door  was  fastened. 
The  breakfast  bell  had  done  ringing;  everj'^body  was  at  table;  James 
was  hungry  and  could  not  get  out;  he  called, 

"  Adolphus !  Adolphus !  come  and  open  the  door ;  I  am  hungry  ; 
I  want  something  to  eat." 

He  continued  to  call,  but  no  one  answered.  He  grew  impatient, 
pnd  knocked  loudly;  and  when  he  had  wearied  himself  out  with 


ADOLPHUS    AND    JAMES. 


145 


knocking  and  screaming-,  the  parrot  began  to  cry,  "Have  you  break 
fasted,  Jaco?  have  you  breakfasted  i '^  James  was  still  more  vexed, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  the  bird  was  mocking  him.  Finally,  after  wait- 
ing an  hour,  Adolphus  returned  to  open  the  door,  and  as  if  nothing 
had  happened,  said  to  James,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  putting  his  head  only 
through  the  half  open  door,  "  Have  you  breakfasted,  Jaco  ?  have  you 
IrcakfastedV^  James,  enraged,  ran  after  Adolphus,  who  fled,  cry- 
ing out  from  time  to  time,  "  Have  you  breakfasted,  Jaco  ?  have  you 
breakfasted  ?  " 

Finally,  however,  James'  anger  was  appeased,  and  Adolphus 
rcsuined  his  tricks.  When  James  had  at  last  really  breakfasted,  he 
descended  to  the  saloon,  where  he  had  perceived  Adolphus  playing 
with  his  brothers,  sisters,  and  some  young  friends  come  to  visit  him. 
They  admitted  poor  James  into  the  circle  ;  but  he  did  not  get  away 
from  them  with  muchjionor, 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Adolphus,  "  if  ycu  please,  we  will  read  sotne 
stories;  I  have  here  a  book  of  ve-ry  aniUo;,.;:  ones." 

•'  Yes,  willingly,"  was  the  reply  on  ail  sides. 

*'  Well,  seat  yourselves  in  a  circle  ;  we  will  coinmcnce  ;  each  one 
shall  read  in  his  turn;  I  will  begin;  James,  piuce  yourself  next  to 
*me." 

They  formed  a  circle,  James  sitting  next  to  Adolphus,  and  {\\q 
latter,  in  a  serious  voice,  read  fluently  the  first  story. 

"  Now  it  is  your  turn,"  said  he,  presenting  the  book  to  the  young 
peasan>t ;  "  you  must  read." 

James  reddened  and  pushed  away  the  book. 

'■  C  nie,  read,  it  is  your  turn  !"  and  James,'  ashamed,  confused, 
humbl  d,  at  last  replied,  "  I  do  not  know  how  to  read." 

Tiiis  was  what  Adolphus  wished,  who,  in  order  to  ridicule  him 
still  more,  said  to, the  assembly,  "  He  does  not  know  how  to  read, 
but  perhaps  he  knows  better  how  to  write  ;  bring  him  a  pen  and  ink." 

James,  blushing  with  shame  and  vexation,  went  out  of  the  room 
crying. 

At  last,  on  the  evening  of  this  unfortunate  day,  Adolphus  had 
another  opportunity  of  ridiculing  his  newcompanion,  of  making  himi 
feel  his  ignorance,  and  thus  displaying  his  own  superiority. 

The  day  was  one  of  public  rejoicing;  the  festival  was  to  terminate 
10 


k 


H6  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

by  fireworks,  wnich  were  to  be  displayed  in  sight  of  the  windows  of 
James'  sleeping  room.  Both  the  boys  were  in  bed  when  the  first 
explosions  of  the  rockets  were  heard. 

"What  is  that?"  cried  James.  "  Adolphus  !  do  yw  see  the 
flames  rising  ?  Look !  look  !  Do  you  hear  the  guns  ^  Is  the 
house  on  fire?" 

Adolphus  immediately  saw  the  use  which  he  could  make  of  the 
fireworks  to  mystify  his  friend.  "  It  is  perhaps  the  enemy,"  said 
he.  "entering  the  city ;  get  up,  James ;  let  us  go  to  the  window." 

"No,  no,  I  am  afraid.  O  look,  look!  the  sky  is  on  fire.  Oh! 
what  cannons  !  the  house  shakes  !  Adolphus,  Adolphus,  what  shall 
we  do  ? " 

"  Come  to  the  window  where  I  am  ;  one  can  see  very  well  here.* 

"  No,  no,  I  am  too  much  afraid." 

"  Come,  I  tell  you.  Here  come  the  Russians  with  their  musta- 
chios ;  here  are  the  Cossacks  on  horseback ;  here  are  the  Turk* 
with  their  long  sabres.  How  they  fight !  Come  and  see  them. 
Do  you  hear  the  grape-shot  ?  Bang  !  here  comes  a  bomb  into  our 
room."  And  at  this  moment  a  rocket,  still  smoking,  fell  at  the  foot 
of  James'  bed.  James  concealed  himself  under  the  covering,  and 
called  out  "  Papa,  papa  ! " 

Adolphus  contmued  the  comedy :  "  Here  are  the  robbers ;  here 
come  the  Russians,  the  English,  the  Chinese,  who  are  entering  the 
house  ;  they  will  pillage  it,  and  make  us  all  prisoners." 

"  Where  shall  I  hide  ?"  asked  James,  trembling ;  "  they  will  see 
me  here.  Ah  !  I  will  get  under  the  bed,"  and  he  sprang  out  and 
hid  himself  beneath  the  bed.  Meanwhile,  the  fireworks  were  almost 
over;  but  the  noise  grew  louder,  the  illumination  brighter,  and  the 
shouts  of  the  people  more  clamorous.  At  last  an  immense  bouquet 
was  let  off,  by  way  of  conclusion  ;  sheaves  of  fire  rose  high  and  fast ; 
repeated  and  deafening  plaudits  were  heard ;  it  seemed  as  if  the 
city  was  all  m  flames,  and  that  a  hundred  thousand  cannons  were 
firing.  James  stopped  his  ears,  trembled  in  every  limb,  and  shook 
ihe  floor.  Finally,  the  last  rocket  having  fallen  and  been  extin- 
guished, everything  returned  to  darkness  and  silence. 

"  Well !  where  are  they,  then  ? "  said  James,  surprised  at  this 
ihange  of  scene  ;  "  where  are  the  Russians  and  the  Chinese  ?  I  do 
not  see  a  single  lord  I " 


ADOLPHUS    AND    JAMES.  147 

'  The  tireworks  are  over." 

•  What !    A^as  it  fireworks  that  made  all  that  noise  ? " 

"  Undoub  3dly  ! "  ^ 

*'  Then,  I  io  not  like  fireworks,  nor  parrots,  nor  all  your  little 
&oys,  nor  asparagus,  nor  artichokes ;  I  had  rather  go  home  with  my 
father ;  I  should  be  glad  to  start  to-morrow,  and  never  to  see  Paris 
any  more." 

"  Well,  James,  I  will  come  to  visit  you  in  your  mountains  ;  papa 
has  promised  to  take  me  with  him  when  he  goes  to  visit  our  farm." 

In  fact,  M.  Valcourt,  who  had  perceived  the  tricks  of  his  son,  and 
who  wished  to  give  him  a  lesson  in  the  presence  of  the  young  peas- 
ant, had  resolved  to  take  his  son  into  the  country;  and  the  next  day 
the  landlord,  the  farmer,  and  their  two  sons,  set  out  together  for  the 
poor  village  of  the  unfortunate  James. 

As  soon  as  he  had  set  foot  on  his  mountains,  James  felt  at  his 
ease.  There  he  was  at  home  ;  he  knew  everything,  could  talk  of 
everything ;  there  was  not  a  tree  in  the  orchard,  not  a  stone  in  the 
road,  which  was  not  an  old  acquaintance.  So  he  pointed  out  to 
Adolphus,  with  a  degree  of  pride,  all  the  curiosities  that  they  met 
with  on  their  way.  As  for  Adolphus,  on  the  contrary,  who  had 
never  been  beyond  the  barrieres  of  Paris,  the  country  was  novel  and 
unknown  to  him.  So,  at  every  step,  he  asked  questions  about  the 
fields,  the  plants,  the  trees,  and  the  cattle.  Here,  James  could  take 
his  revenge.  So  he  did  not  fail  to  do  so  ;  and  to  give  yen  an  idea 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  gratified  his  wounded  pride,  I  wiil  relate 
to  you  how  they  spent  their  first  day  in  the  country. 

In  the  morning,  both  went  out  to  make  an  excursion  into  the 
fields. 

"  Shall  we  go  on  horseback  ?"  said  Adolphus ;  "  I  saw  a  hcjrse  :n 
your  father's  stable." 

"  Yes,  but  we  have  only  one." 

"  No  matter ;  I  will  ride  him,  and  you,  James,  can  take  the 
mule." 

"  Come,"  said  James  ;  and  they  went  to  the  stable. 

*'  You  must  put  the  saddle  on,"  said  Adolphus. 

"  Oh  !  we  do  not  use  saddles  in  the  country.  Wait,  1  will  help 
you  mount ;  there  yoii  are  !     Now,  g  i  ahead  !     I  am  coming  after 


L 


148  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

on  my  mule.     Go  alonj^!"  and  James  touched  the  horse  with  the 
whip.     "  Go  along !"  and  horse  and  mule  began  to  trot. 

"  Gently,  gently,  "  cried  Adolphus. 

"  No,  no,"  said  James;  "you  are  a  good  horseman;  go  along! 
don't  you  see,  this  is  the  way  the  Cossacks  ride  ?" 

"  Gently,  I  tell  you  ;  I  shall  fall  off!" 

"  No,  hold  on  by  the  mane.     Go  along  !  " 

James,  mounted  on  his  mule,  switch  in  hand,  without  saddle,  with- 
out stirrup,  galloped  and  held  on  firmly;  while  poor  Adolphus  lying 
on  his  horse,  with  both  arras  around  its  neck,  and  the  mane  i-Ji  his 
mouth,  was  swaying  to  the  right  and  left,  like  an  awkward  coward. 
He  would  have  been  glad  to  have  dismounted,  but  dared  not  say  so. 
When  they  had  reached  the  village,  and  all  the  peasants  were 
coming  to  their  doors  to  see  this  curious  cavalcade,  James  said  to 
Adolphus,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  everybody,  "Well,  Sir  Cavalier, 
since  you  cannot  keep  on  the  horse,  you  shall  take  my  mule  ;  get 
off  and  change  animals." 

Adolphus  was  humbled  ;  nevertheless,  as  he  feared  a  fall,  he  did 
not  wait  to  be  urged,  and  descended,  or  rather  slipped  off  upon  the 
ground.  He  mounted  the  mule,  James  took  the  horse,  gave  him  a 
blow  with  the  switch,  and  the  latter  started  off  at  full  speed,  leaving 
far  behind  him  the  mule  and  its  rider  in  the  midst  of  the  peasants 
who  were  ready  to  burst  with  laughter.  This  time  Adolphus  man 
aged  to  stay  on  ;  but  the  beast  would  not  stir  an  inch.  Adolphus 
kicked,  struck  her  with  his  fists,  pulled  her  ears,  cried  Go  along,  an: 
Gee  up;  he  could  not  make  her  go  one  step.  At  last  James  took 
pity  on  his  companion  ;  he  returned  on  the  gallop,  and,  without 
descending  from  his  horse,  seized  the  ass  by  the  bridle  and  com- 
pelled it  to  trot  by  the  side  of  his  horse.  Adolphus  felt  his  depend- 
ence, and  bit  his  lips  in  silence.  At  last  they  left  the  village  and 
found  themselves  in  the  fields  ;  the  mule  walked  along  on  the  edge 
of  the  road,  and  his  cavalier,  fearing  that  he  would  throw  him  into 
the  ditch,  turned  him  toAvard  a  patch  of  verdure. 

"  Let  us  go  over  this  grass,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  that  grass  is  wheat." 

"  How,  wheat  ? " 

"  Yes,  wheat  in  the  flower.  It  seems  that  you  have  not  seea 
much  at  Paris  !  but  take  care,  your  mule  is  brc  vsing." 


ADOLFHUS    AND    JAMES.  *  149 

**  O  i     that  is  nothing  •    t  is  only  upon  ugly  weeds." 

"  Not  at  all ;  those  weeds  are  potatoes." 

"  Oh  !  what  fine  melons,"  cried  Adolphus. 

"  Those  melons  are  pumpkins,"  said  James,  smiling. 

Adolphus  stopped  making  agricultural  observations,  and  wished 
£irther  off  the  country,  the  pumpkins,  the  mule,  and  his  friend 
James. 

At  last  both  arrived  at  a  superb  cherry  tree. 

"Cherries!  cherries!  Adolphus,  descend  and  climb  this  tree; 
here,  iasten  your  mule.  Well;  come,  climb."  Adolphus  clasped 
his  arms  about  the  tree,  embraced  it  with  all  his  strens^th,  and  could 
not  succeed  m  pettm?  up. 

"Courage!"  cried  .lames;  and  Adolphus  limed  his  pantaloons 
against  the  bark,  made  a  great  effort,  and  did  not  go  up. 

"  Well,  I  will  climb  it  myself;  only  hold  my  horse  by  the  bridle." 

James  sprang  off,  and  using  his  feet  and  hands,  in  less  than  a 
tninute  found  himself  on  the  tree  in  the  midst  of  branches  full  of 
ripe,  rosy  cherries. 

"  How  good  they  are  !"  said  he. 

"  Throw  me  some,"  said  Adolphus. 

"  Yes,  in  a  minute  ;  let  rne  eat  some  first ;  how  good  they  are  ! 
See  this  one,  how  big  it  is  !" 

"  And  I  ?"  said  Adolphu* 

"  Wait,  wait ;  look  out  for  tlic  stones  which  are  falling  on  your 
head." 

James  ate  on,  and  did  not  throw  down  any.  Adolphus.  with  his 
head  raised,  held  out  his  hat,  begged,  entreated,  and  received 
nothing.  At  last,  when  James  had  eaten  enough,  he  said  :  "  There 
are  no  more  ripe  ones ;  we  will  come  again  to-morrow,  and  I  will 
o;ive  you  some." 

"  No,  give  me  some  now." 

"  No,  no,  they  are  too  green." 

"  I  am  hungry,"  cried  Adolphus. 

"  Have  yo2^  breakfasted,  Jaco  1  have  you  breakfasted  ?  "  said  Jair.rs. 

Adolphus  was  stifling  with  anger;  he  saw  that  he  was  ridicul<^d, 
he  picked  up  some  stones  and  threw  them  into  the  tree.  But  Jamps 
was  active;  he  mounted  from  branch  to  branch  to  the  very  top,  and 


150  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

when  he  was  out  of  reach,  continued  to  cry,  in  a  hoarse  voice  and 
an  ironical  manner  —  "  Have  you  breakfasted,  Jaco  ?  have  you  break' 
fasted  ?  "  At  the  same  time  he  went  on  eat.ng  cherries,  flinging 
down  a  shower  of  cherry  stones  on  the  face  of  Adolphus,  who  was 
raising  his  head,  and  repeating  constantly,  "  Have  you  breakfasted, 
Jaco  ?  have  you  breakfasted  ?  " 

At  last  Adolphus  saw  himself  forced  to  beat  a  retreat,  and  full  of 
spite,  ran  to  relate  to  his  father  the  conduct  of  James  towards  him. 
M.  Valcourt  was  a  wise  man,  and  promised  himself  to  seize  this 
opportunity  to  give  a  good  lesson  to  our  two  children. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  M.  Valcourt  had  assembled  in 
his  room  all  the  family,  that  they  might  listen  to  the  reading  of  the 
Bible,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  each  evening  in  his  own  house. 
He  made  Adolphus  sit  down  on  one  side  of  him,  and  James  on  the 
other,  and  opening  his  Testament  at  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  Luke, 
where  there  was  an  engraving,  said  to  James :  "  You,  my  friend, 
brought  up  in  the  country,  ought  to  know  all  the  trees  and  all  the 
domestic  animals." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir,  and  I  know  all  the  plants  even;  while  Adolphus, 
this  morning,  took  wheat  for  grass,  and  pumpkins  for  melons." 

"Well;  since  you  are  so  learned,  look  at  this  picture,  and  tell  me 
what  tree  this  is  ?  " 

"  This  tree  ?  I  do  not  know  ;  perhaps  it  is  not  drawn  right,  and 
that  may  be  the  reason  1  do  not  recognize  it." 

"  No,  the  tree  is  drawn  correctly ;  but  you  are  too  ignorant  to 
know  it ;  it  is  a  palm  tree,  such  as  grew  in  Judea  in  the  times  of 
our  Saviour,  and  is  found  in  many  places  to  this  day.  And  tha/ 
animal  which  you  see  on  the  right,  what  is  it?" 

''  Oh!  it  is  a  great  mule,  only  it  is  hump-backed." 

'*  No,  my  friend,  this  mule  is  a  camel,  such  as  is  used  in  the  Easv 
for  the  labors  of  the  country.  You  see,  therefore,  that  you  do  not 
know  the  animals  any  better  than  the  trees." 

"  But,  sir,  I  never  saw  palm  trees  nor  camels,  and  could  not 
know  them." 

"  That  is  true ;  you  ought  to  have  reasoned  thus  this  morning 
and  said  :  Adolphus  has  never  seen  potatoes  or  wheat  growing,  and 
cannot  Know  them ;  and  since  I  do  not  laugh  at  you,  you  should  not 
have  lauirhed  at  him." 


ADOLPHUS    AND   JAMEP 


151 


Adolphus  was  all  triumphant ;  he  was  about  t.  have  spoken  to 
confound  his  enemy,  when  his  father  bald  to  hiri :  "And  you, 
4.dolphus,  look  upon  this  book  also,  and  read  a  page  to  me." 

Adolphus,  delighted  at  having  an  opportunity  to  display  his 
learning  before  all  the  peasants,  approached,  took  the  book  with  an 
air  of  importance,  looked  around  upon  the  audience,  and  then  upon 
the  volume.  Everybody  was  attentive.  Adolphus  looked  at  the 
book,  looked  again,  was  troubled,  and  did  not  read. 

*'  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  his  father;  "do  you  not  know 
how  to  read  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  can  read  and  write." 

"  Read,  then." 

"  But  I  cannot  read  this  book." 

"  Well,  read  only  one  line." 

"  I  cannot." 

"  One  word." 

"  I  cannot." 

"  One  letter." 

"  I  cannot ;  this  book  is  not  in  our  language.'  "^^  . 

"  In  what  language  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  How,  you  do  not  know  anything !  Well,  this  book  is  written 
in  Greek." 

"  But,  papa,  I  have  never  studied  Greek ;  it  is  not,  therefore, 
surprising  that  I  am  ignorant  of  it." 

"  That  is  true  ;  but  then,  two  days  since,  at  the  city,  in  the 
parlor,  you  should  have  reasoned  thus  with  respect  to  James ;  and 
when  you  presented  him  with  a  book  of  history  to  mortify  him, 
should  have  said  to  yourself:  Since  James  has  never  learned  to 
read,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  should  not  know  how !  Now, 
my  children,  listen  ;  I  am  about  to  read  to  you  from  this  book,  what 
will  explain  this  engraving,  with  the  temple  which  you  see  in  the 
tack-ground,  and  those  two  men  ascenditig  its  steps. 

" '  Jesus  spake  this  parable  unto  certain  which  trusted  in  them- 
selves that  they  were  righteous,  and  despised  others  : 

"  *  Two  men  went  into  the  temple  to  pray ;  the  one  a  Pharisee, 
and  the  other  a  Publican.     The  Pharisee  stood  and  prayed  thus 


152 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


with  himself:  God,  1  thank  thee,  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are, 
extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or  even  as  this  Publican.  I  fast 
twice  a  week,  I  give  tithes  of  all  I  possess.  And  the  Publican, 
standing  afar  off,  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heaven, 
but  smote  upon  his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner. 
I  tell  you,  this  man  went  down  to  his  house  justified  rather  than  the 
other ;  for  every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased  ;  and  he 
that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.' 

"  You  see,  my  children,  this  Pharisee  boasted  of  being  better  than 
other  men,  and  Jesus  has  told  us  that  God  condemned  him.  The 
Publican,  on  the  contrary,  acknowledged  himself  to  be  but  a  miser- 
able sinner,  and  God  pardoned  and  justified  him.  It  will  be  thus 
with  you;  if  you  are  proud,  God  will  humble  you;  if  you  are 
humble,  he  will  exalt  you.     AVill  you  remember  this,  my  children  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Adolphus ;  "  Yes,  sir,"  said  James. 

"Well,  embrace  each  other,  and  may  God  seal  your  promise." 

Adolphus  and  James  shook  hands  and  embraced.  Let  us  hope 
that  it  was  with  sincerity,  and  that  God  has  blessed  their  good 
resolutions. 


THE    BOY    WHO    LOVED    HIS    SISTER. 


153 


The  Boy  who  ioved  his  Sister, 

'■Hi.treah!  Hurrah!  See  how  it  snows,  Caioliiie  !  It  will  be 
fine  sledding  to-morrow." 

"0  yes,  the  white  flakes  do  fall  bea'itifully,  don't  they,  Harry? 
They  look  like  featiiers  falling  from  the  sky." 

*'  To-morrow,  Caroline,  1  will  take  my  new  sled  to  the  top  of 
Washington  hill,  and  you  shall  ride  on  it  gloriously.  O,  won't  it 
be  fine  !"  and  the  bright-eyed  boy  clapped  his  hands  for  joy. 

"  Yes,  it  will,  Harry.  You  are  very  kind  to  think  of  me.  I  love 
you,  brother,  because  you  never  spare  any  pains  to  make  me  happy." 

"Ah,  who  can  help  loving  you,  sister?  Don't  you  always  give 
me  the  best  of  your  presents?  Arid  don't  you  always  plead  for  me, 
when  I  have  done  wrong  ?  You  are  so  good,  Caroline,  that  I  can't 
help  loving  you." 

Thus  did  these  lovrly  children  talk  of  their  affection  for  each 
other,  very,  much  to  the  admiration  of  their  mother,  who  tr-r  quietly 
sewing  by  the  fire.  As  they  closed  their  dialogue  she  called  liiem 
to  her  side,  and  said,  "  It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  you  so  fond  of 
each  other,  my  children.  You  cannot  thiidc  how  happy  I  am  to  be 
the  witness  of  your  love.  It  is  also  acceptable  to  your  Creator, 
whose  command  *is,  '  Little  children,  love  one  another.'  As  you  are 
so  kind  to  your  sister,  Harry,  I  will  tell  you  a  story." 

"0  do,  mamma!  do,  mamma!"  they  both  exclaimed  at  once. 
So  their  mother  laid  down  her  work,  and  began  the  following  story. 

"  It  happened  a  long  time  ago,  that  Henry  I.,  king  of  England, 
had  an  only  son,  named  William.  As  the  king  was  growing  old, 
he  wished  all  his  proud  barons  to  acknowledge  his  son  as  tneir 
future  king.  So  he  summoned  many  of  the  English  nobility  to  his 
court,  afid  then  took  them,  with  the  young  prince,  over  to  Normandy, 
where  he  was  duke,  that  the  barons  and  chiefs  might  do  homage  lo 
his  son.  There  he  sat  in  great  state,  and  the  mailed  warriors  came 
and  kissed  the  hand  of  William,  promising  to  do  him  service  with 
their  good  swords. 

"This  over,  they  set  sail  for  England  in  several  vessels.  The 
wind  was  fair,  and  the  little  fleet  sailed  gayly  out  of  port,  with  gay 
flags  an^  bright  streamers  floating  proudly  in  the  gale.     But,  alaa 


154  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

for  the  prince !  his  sailors  had  made  themselves  drunk  and  befor*: 
long  run  the  vessel  on  a  rock,  where  she  immediately  sunk. 

'•  CJpon  this  the  sailors  put  Prince  William  into  the  long  boat  and 
left  the  wreck.  As  they  sailed  away,  he  heard  his  sister,  the 
Countess  of  Perche,  crying  after  him  to  save  her.  Moved  by  hei 
cries  and  by  the  love  he  bore  her,  he  ordered  the  sailors  to  row  back 
to  the  rock.  They  were  bound  to  obey  him,  and  put  back ;  but  no 
sooner  did  she  reach  the  rock  than  a  large  number  of  the  young 
nobility,  who  had  also  been  left,  jumped  on  board.  She  went  down, 
and  the  prince,  with  his  sister  and  all  who  sailed  in  his  vessel,  ex- 
cept one  man,  perished." 

*'  But  where  was  the  king,  mother?"  inquired  Harry. 

"  He  was  in  another  vessel,  and  the  wind  had  carried  her  out  of 
sight.  Prince  William's  ship  was  behind  all  the  fleet,  and  no  one 
would  have  known  how  he  perished  if  one  man  had  not  been  picked 
from  the  wreck,  by  some  fishermen,  the  next  morning." 

"  Well,  that  was  love,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Caroline.  "  He  lost  his 
own  life  to  save  that  of  his  sister." 

"  And  I  would  do  so  for  you,  Caroline,"  said  Harry,  as,  throwing 
his  arms  round  her  neck,  he  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  glowing  cheek. 

The  mother  was  moved  to  tears  by  this  display  of  affection  in  her 
children,  and  placing  a  hand  upon  the  head  of  each,  she  said,  "  May 
God  bless  you,  my  children  !  May  you  always  love  as  you  do  to- 
day!" 


Tears. 

The  lucid  tear  from  Flavia's  eye, 

Down  her  soft  cheek  in  pity  flows ; 
As  ether  drops  forsake  the  sky, 

To  cheer  the  blushing,  drooping  rcse. 
For,  like  the  sun,  her  eyes  diffuse 

O'er  her  fair  face  so  bright  a  ray, 
That  tears  must  fall  like  heavenly  dews, 

Lest  the  twin  roses  fade  away. 

Mrs  Rob  nson. 


don't  blame  others  for  what  you  do  yourself.        155 

Do  not  blame  otheis  for  what  you  have  done 
yourself. 

"  Charles,  how  is  this — did  you  turn  over  the  inkstand?"  asked 
bis  mother. 

"  No,  Henry  did  it ;  he  ran  against  the  table  and  upset  it." 

"  I  say  Charles  pushed  me,  and  I  could  not  help  it,"  said  Henry. 

"  Well,  he  would  not  give  me  my  pen,  and  I  was  trying  to  get  it 
away  from  him." 

"  It  seems,  then,  boys,  you  had  a  struggle,  and,  between  you  both, 
the  inkstand  was  upset.  But  T  should  have  been  much  better 
pleased  with  vou,  if  you  had  each  confessed  your  share  in  the  acci- 
dent, without  blaming  the  other." 


"  See  how  John  has  broke  my  cart!"  says  Thomas. 

"  John  must  have  been  very  naughty ;  but  how  did  he  do  it  ?" 

"  He  tripped  me  up,  and  made  me  fall  on  it,  and  broke  it." 

*♦  Did  John  mean  to  trip  you  up  ?  " 

Thomas  hung  down  his  head. 

"  My  boy,  why  did  you  not  say  you  stumbled  over  John,  and  felJ 
on  your  cart,  and  broke  it  ?  It  would  have  been  more  honest,  and 
honorable  too."  

"  Mary,  how  did  you  tear  your  dress?"  inquired  her  mother. 

"  I  did  not;  Jane  tore  it." 

" I  did  not  think  Jane  was  so  bad  a  giil;  how  did  she  do  it?" 

"  She  made  me  tear  it,  and  that  is  just  as  bad." 

"  Certainly.     How  did  she  make  you  tear  it  ?  " 

"  She  made  me  rim  against  a  nail,  and  it  caught,  and  was  torn." 

"  But  I  do  not  quite  understand  how  she  should  make  you  run 
against  a  nail." 

"  She  was  trying  to  catch  me,  and  I 

*'  And  you  ran  against  the  nail  and  tore  your  dress ;  was  it  not  so? 
It  was  an-  accident,  though  I  am  afraid  you  are  rather  careless ;  and 
because  Jane  was  playing  with  you  at  the  time,  yu  blame  her  for 
it.     Is  that  a  candid  little  girl  ?  " 

1  am  sorrv  tn  say    it  is  very  common  for  children  when  they 


156 


PICTORIAL    MISCP:LLANy. 


have  c Allied  any  trifling  accident,  to  lay  the  blame  or  their  compan- 
ions, though  nothing  can  be  more  cowardly  and  ungenerous.  Little 
readers,  did  jo\i  never  know  any  instances  like  these? 


Banks  of  the  River  Nile. 


Here  you  see  men  and  camels,  and  trees  and  tents,  an  account 
of  wliich  would  be  very  interesting;  h'it  it  is  my  design  to  tell  you 
otily  of  the  river,  which  flows  in  theix  midst.  At  the  time  the  Bible 
account  of  the  Egyptians  was  given,  they  had  not  traced  the  Nile  to 
its  source  :  and  their  ignorance  of  its  source  is  thought  to  have  been 
one  ree.?;  n  for  their  great  veneration  of  the  river.  As  but  very  lit- 
tle rain  lell  in  Egypt,  apd  yet  the  river  continued  to  flow  and  peri- 
odically overflow,  the  people  were. held  in  mysterious  wonder. 

The  Nile  is  sometimes  called  the  river  of  Egypt.  Through  the 
'iangerous  and  indefatigable  labors  of  Mr.  Bruce,  an  English  gen- 
t'*eman,  it  has  bne-    ascertained  that  the  permanent  fountains  of  the 


J 


BANKS    OF   THE    KIVER    NILE.  157 

Nile  are  situated  in  the  mountains  of  Abyssinia,  and  in  the  regions 
to  the  west  and  southwest  of  that  country ;  and  that  the  occasional 
in.udations  of  the  river  are  caused  by  the  periodical  rains  which  fall 
in  those  districts. 

Look  upon  your  raaps,  if  you  have  not  a  distinct  impression  of 
the  location  and  course  of  this  river.  After  having  watered  several 
kingdoms,  it  flows  far  into  the  kingdom  of  Goiam.  Then  it  winds 
about  from  the  east  to  the  north,  and  then  falls  into  Egypt  at  the 
cataracts,  or  waterfalls,  over  steep  rocks  of  the  length  of  two  hun- 
dred feet.  At  the  bottom  of  these  rocks  the  Nile  returns  to  its 
usual  place,  and  thus  flows  through  the  valley  of  Egypt.  The 
breadth  of  its  channel  is  about  a  league. 

At  eight  miles  below  Grand  Cairo,  it  is  divided  into  two  arms 
which  make  a  triangle,  whose  hs^e  is  at  the  Mediterranean  Sea 
and  which  the  Greeks  call  the  Delta,  because  of  its  figure,  ^. 
These  two  arms  are  divided  into  others,  which  discharge  themselves 
into  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  the  distance  of  which  from  the  top  of 
the  Delta  is  about  sixty  miles. 

The  Egyptians  paid  divine  honors  to  thi:?  river,  and  called  it  Ju- 
piter Nilus.  Christians  admire  the  river,  and  honor  Him  who  made 
it. 

As  I  said  before,  very  little  rain  ever  falls  in  Egypt ;  never  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  to  fertilize  the  land ;  and  were  it  not  for  the  wonder- 
ful provision  of  this  bountiful  river,  the  country  would  be  condemned 
to  perpetual  sterility.  But  as  it  is,  the  regularity  of  the  flood,  the 
deposite  of  rich  soil  from  the  water  of  the  river,  and  the  warmth  of 
the  climate,  make  it  one  of  the  most  fertile  countries  in  the  world : 
the  produce  exceeds  all  the  calculation  of  New  England  boys. 

It  has,  in  consequence,  been,  in  all  ages,  the  granary  of  the  cast; 
and  has  on  more  than  one  occasion,  an  instance  of  which  you  will 
find  in  the  history  of  Joseph,  saved  the  neighboring  countries  from 
starvation. 


Moseb,  my  lad,  what  is  meekness  ?  ' 

It  is  what  gives  smooth  answers  to  rough  questions.'" 

Right ;  you  may  go  to  the  head." 


168  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY.  * 

Dialogue  between  Lily  and  Mary  about  tbe  Angels. 

BY   MARY    FORRESTER. 

Mary. 
Sister  Lily,  can  you  tell 
Where  the  holy  angels  dwell? 
Is  it  very,  very  far, 
Up  above  the  moon  and  star  1 

Lily. 
Holy  angels,  sister  dear, 
Dwell  with  little  children  here ; 
Every  night  and  every  day 
With  the  good  they  love  to  stay, 

Mary. 
Yet  I  never  see  them  come, 
Never  know  when  they  go  home. 
Never  hear  them  speak  to  me,— 
Sister  dear,  how  can  it  be  ? 

Lily. 
Mary,  did  you  never  hear 
Something  whisper  in  your  ear, 
"  Don't  be  naughty,  never  cry, 
God  is  looking  from  the  sky?"  -' 

Mary. 
Yes,  indeed  ;  and  it  must  be  ♦ 

That 's  the  way  they  speak  to  me 
These  are  just  the  words  they  eny 
Many  times  in  every  day. 

Lily. 
And  they  kindly  watch  us,  too, 
When  the  flowers  are  v/et  wilii  d  3W  : 
When  we  're  tired,  and  go  to  sleap. 
Angels  then,  our  slumbers  keep. 


FILIAL   DEVOTION.  159 

f 
Every  night,  and  every  day,  a 

When  we  work,  and  when  we  play,  ^ 

God's  good  angeis  watch  us  still, 
Keeping  us  from  every  ill.  ^    \ 

When  we  're  good,  then  they  are  glad ; 

Are  we  naughty,  they  are  sad  ;  [      .    "*"•. 

Should  we  very  wicked  grow. 

Then  away  from  us  they  '11  go. 

Mary. 
Oh,  I  would  not  have  them  go, 
I  do  love  the  angels  so ; 
I  will  never  naughty  b6, 
So  they  '11  always  stay  with  mo. 


Filial   Devotion. 

"  ^orae  feelings  are  to  mortals  given, 
With  less  of  earth  in  them  than  heaven : 
And  if  there  be  a  human  tear, 
From  passion's  dross  refin'd  and  clear, 
A  tear  so  limpid,  and  so  meek, 
It  would  not  stain  an  angel's  cheek, 
'Tis  that  which  pious  fathers  shed 
Upon  a  duteous  daughter's  head." 

Ladv  or  HIE  Lakk. 

During  the  sanguinary  period  of  the  French  revolution,  when 
crimes  and  horrors  were  continually  perpetrated,  the  sacred  affec- 
tions of  kindred  and  of  friendship  were  often  powerfully  excited. 

One  such  instance  occurred  amid  the  terrified  massacres  of  an  age 
unparalleled  in  atrocity ;  when  crowds  of  unfortunate  persons  were 
condemned  unheard,  and  loaded  cannon  were  directed  to  play  upon 
them.  Yet  not  only  in  France  and  its  dependencies  —  among  the 
instances  of  unflinching  heroism  and  filial  love,  which  La  Vendee 
continually  exhibited,  but  in  the  far-off  West,  in  one  of  those  unfor- 
tunate islands  where  the  massacres  of  the  reign  of  terror  were 
acted  on  a  less  extended  theatre. 


160 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


An  honest  Creole,  wliosc  only  crime  considted  in  possessing  tht 
inheritance  of  his  ancestors,  was  denounced  as  inimical  to  the  re 
public,  and  sentenced  to  die  with  a  crowd  of  his  fellow-countrymen 
But  happily  for  this  virtuous  colonist,  he  w^as  the  father  of  a  little- 
O^irl,  eminently  endowed  with  courage,  energy,  and  afTection ;    and 
when  the  moment  of  separation  from  his  family  arrived,  this  cour- 
ageous child  resolved,  to   follow  and   share  his  sufferings;  however 
terrible  to  her  tender  age.     In  vain  did  the  father  entreat  his  little 
Annette  to  remain  at  home,  and  the  mother,  with  streaming  eyes, 
seek  to  retain  her  child  by  force.      Entreaties  and  commands  were 
equally   unavailing,  and,  rushing  from  the  door,  she   continued  to 
follow,  at  a  little  distance,  the  rough   men  who  urged  her  unhappy 
father  to  the  place  of  execution.     Small  time  sufficed  to  place  him 
in  the  foremost  rank  of  the  condemed  ;    his  eyes  were  blinded,  and 
his  hands  tied  together,  while  the  executioners  made  ready  those 
murderous  engines  which  were  soon  to  open  a  heavy  fire  of  grape 
shot  upon  the  crowds  who  awaited  their  death  in  silence. 


But  suddenly  a  little  girl  sprang  forward,  and  her  voice,  tremu- 
lous with  emotion,  uttered  the  piercing  cry  of — "Oh  !  my  father, 
my  father !  "     The  lookers  on  endeavored  to   snatch   her  from   de- 


FILIAL    DEVOTION.  161 

struction  and  those  who  were  alike  condemned  to  death,  menaced 
the  poor  child,  in  order  to  drive  her  from  among  them.  Annette 
bounded  with  light  step  towards  her  father,  as  she  had  been  wont  to 
do  in  happier  days,  when  awaiting  his  welcome  voice,  and  throwing 
her  little  arms  around  his  neck,  she  waited  to  perish  with  the  author 
of  her  days. 

"  0  my  child,  my  dearest  child  !  the  cherished  and  only  hope  of 
thy  wretched  mother,  now  on  the  eve  of  widowhood,"  exclaimed 
her  trembling  and  weeping  father,  "  I  command,  I  conjure  thee  to 
go  away." 

"  No,  papa,  we  will  die  together." 

This  unexpected  incident  disconcerted  the  director  of  the  massa- 
cre. Perhaps  he  was  himself  a  father,  and  the  thought  of  his  own 
children  might  arise  within  him.  Certain  it  is,  that  his  ferocious 
heart  was  softened ;  he  ordered  the  Creole  away,  and  commanded 
that  he  should  be  taken  to  prison  with  bis  child.  Amid  the  rage  of 
civil  discord,  and  the  alternate  ascendency  of  contending  factions,  a 
brief  respite  was  not  unfrequently  productive  of  the  happiest  conse- 
quences. Such  was  the  case  in  the  present  instance.  The  face  of 
affairs  became  changed ;  the  father  v/as  restored  to  his  family,  and 
ceased  not  to  speak  with  the  tenderest  emotion  of  his  little  daughter, 
then  only  ten  years  of  age. 

Many  who  heard  the  tale,  in  after  years,  pleased  themselves  with 
thinking  that  the  human  heart  is  never  completely  insensible  to  the 
voice  of  nature.  But  the  contrary  has  been  unhappily  evinced  in 
those  fearful  tragedies  which  have  so  often  disgraced  its  history, 
in  which  the  tears  of  suffering  innocence  have  vainly  sought  for 
sympathy  and  compassion.  We  cannot,  therefore,  attribute  so  won- 
derful a  deliverance  to  those  innate  principles  of  virtue  and  benevo- 
ler;ce,  which  are  thought  by  some  incapable  of  being  totally  eradi- 
cated in  the  breast  of  even  the  most  atrocious  and  sanguinary.  We^ 
must  rather  give  to  Him  the  glory,  in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of 
men  ;  and  who,  in  preserving  the  life  of  a  virtuous  individual,  has 
permitted  to  all  young  people  a  beautiful  and  impressive  instance? 
of  the  reward  of  filial  devotion. 

n 


162  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

Sammy  and  Willie. 

BY    COUSIN   MARY. 

SAr.UEL  and  William  were  two  little  boys  of  about  the  same  age. 
They  lived  in  the  same  village,  and  on  the  same  street.  Perhaps 
we  ought  to  tell  our  little  readers  that  this  village  had  only  two 
streets,  —  one  running  north  and  south,  without  stopping  at  all; 
and  the  other  running  east  and  west,  terminates  at  one  end  by  the 
meeting-house,  and  at  the  other  by  the  mill  pond.  Sammy  was  a 
gentle,  blue-eyed  boy,  who  made  but  little  trouble,  either  for  himself 
or  others.  Not  so  Willie.  The  neighbors  used  to  call  him  "  rat- 
tling, roaring  Bill."  In  the  morning,  when  the  bright  sun  was 
shining  over  the  green  hills,  and  the  sweet  buds  were  preparing  to 
bloom,  Willie  would  be  scrambling  out  of  bed  and  down  stairs  (as 
often  head  foremost  as  any  way.)  Oh,  in  such  a  hurry,  a  world  of 
business  on  his  little  hands,  and  no  time  to  do  it  in  !  And  what  was 
the  reason?  Perhaps  I  cannot  better  tell  you,  than  by  writing 
down  a  dialogue  between  him  and  Sammy. 

Willie.  Sam!  come  here,  do,  I  beg  you,  just  a  minute.  I  de- 
clare, I  shall  be  late  to  school  again,  to-day. 

Sammy.  I  can  help  you  just  five  minutes,  Willie,  if  you  will  tell 
me  quick  what  to  do.  I  have  not  had  a  "  tardy  mark  "  this  sum- 
mer ;  I  should  be  sorry  to  get  one. 

Willie.  Well,  then,  just  finish  weeding  that  bed  for  me.  No, 
noe  that  row  out,  if  you  please.  Or,  Sammy,  just  run  and  drive 
those  sheep  out  of  the  field  ;  father  told  me  to  do  it  long  ago,  but  I 
could  n't  find  time.     Don't  stop  to  finish  weeding  now,  Sammy. 

Sammy.  Oh  yes,  I  must,  or  I  shall  break  my  rule,  "  One  thin^ 
at  a  time."     That 's  my  rule  ;  I  never  break  it. 

Willie.  Guess,  if  you  lived  here,  you  'd  have  to  break  your  rule 
or  your  neck. 

Sammy.  I  have  finished  the  flower  bed,  and  will  now  hoe  the 
row. 

Willie.  Hov"  fast  you  work  !  I  have  n't  done  a  thing  yet,  only 
stand  and  talk 


S.-  X^IY    AND   WILLIE.  163 

Sammy.  There,  that  is  ione.  Get  your  hat  and  books  while  1 
drive  out  the  sheep 

In  a  few  momei  ts  the  .ittle  boys  were  on  their  way  to  school, 
while  Willie,  who  had  received  a  new  idea,  began  to  talk  of  Sam- 
my's rule. 

Willie.  How  do  you  manage  to  keep  a  rule  like  that,  Sam  ?  I  11 
tell  you  what,  sir,  if  you  had  as  much  to  do  as  I  have  you  could  n't 
do  it.  "  One  thing  at  a  time,"  indeed  !  I  never  did  one  thing  at  a 
time  since  I  was  born ;  I  can't  stop  for  that. 

Sammy.     But  don't  you  have  to  finish  what  you  begin  ? 

Willie.  Be  sure  I  do ;  father  is  mighty  particular.  Everything 
has  to  be  done  ;  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  doing  one  thing  at  a 
time;  'twould  take  forever.     Your  father  don't  make  you  drive  so. 

Sammy.     How  much  had  you  to  do  this  morning,  Willie  ? 

Willie.  Why,  in  the  first  place,  I  had  to  get  up,  and  eat  my 
breakfast. 

Sa7nmy.     Oh,  I  meant  loork. 

Willie.  Don't  you  call  that  work  ?  I  call  it  about  as  hard  work 
as  a  fellow  can  do,  that  of  getting  up  in  the  morning. 

Savimy.     And  eating  his  breakfast,  eh  ? 

Willie.  Why,  as  to  that,  if  a  body  could  have  an  hour  or  so  for 
this  business,  it  would  n't  be  so  hard ;  but  I  can't  spend  time  to  eat. 
I  never  get  up  from  the  table  without  thinking  it  is  a  mercy  that  I 
have  n't  been  choked  to  death.  But  I  must  tell  you  what  father 
gave  me  to  do.  First,  then,  I  had  to  drive  the  cows  to  pasture,  then 
get  my  geography,  then  I  had  to  weed  that  bed,  and  hoe  that  row, 
and  — and  drive  out  the  sheep.     Now,  tell  me,  what  you  had  to  do. 

Sammy,  I  took  time  to  get  up  and  dress  myself,  to  read  a  chap- 
ter in  my  little  Testament,  and  say  my  morning  prayer  ;  I  ate  my 
breakfast,  without  choking,  went  half  a  mile  on  an  errand  for 
mother,  and  studied  my  lessi)ns  on  the  way. 

Willie.  Then  you  broke  your  rule  ;  that  was  doing  more  than 
one  thing  at  a  time. 

Sammy.  Oh  no,  sir!  we  can  make  ou  minds  work  with  our 
hands  and  our  feet,  and  they  will  be  no  hindrance  one  to  the  other. 
When  I  came  home,  I  hoed  two  rows,  helped  Kezzy  churn,  turned 


164 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY, 


the  grindstone  half  an  hour,  and  read  half  an  bour  tc  poc.  old 
grandmother. 

Willie.     How  could  you  do  so  much  ? 

Sammy.  By  setting  right  about  it;  doing  one  thing  at  a  time, 
and  keeping  at  it  till  all  was  done. 

Willie.     I  declare!  I  must  learn  that  rule  of  yours;  it's  capital. 

Sammy.  Easier  learned  than  practised,  Willie  ;  but  once  learned, 
and  practised,  not  often  broken. 


Reading. 

Boys  —  read  something  useful  everyday.  Something  to  reflect 
upon  and  talk  about  while  at  your  work,  or  on  the  road  to  school. 
Be  inquisitive ;  find  out  things.  Don't  let  the  blood  pass  from  your 
heart  to  your  fingers'  ends  thousands  of  times,  and  you  know  nothing 
of  its  motions.  Store  your  minds  early  in  life  wi:h  wisdom.  Crowd 
in  a  little  daily.     Remember  Roger  Sherman.     He  was  one  of  the 


LITTLK    KilAXK    AND    THE    BOAT.  165 

noblest  examples  of  how  much  self-cultivation  may  do  to  make  a 
^reat  man.  His  schooV  privileges  were  of  the  most  ordinary  kind. 
Early  in  life  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  shoemaker ;  and  instead  of  join- 
ing in  the  vulgar  conversation  so  common  to  many  of  his  compan- 
ions, he  would  sit  at  his  work  with  an  open  book  before  him,  and 
devote  every  moment  to  study  that  his  eyes  could  be  spared  from 
the  occupation  in  which  he  was  engaged. 

Be  saving  of  your  little  allowances,  and  buy  books.  Lives  of 
good  and  great  men.  Men  such  as  Washington,  and  Penn,  and 
Howard,  and  a  host  of  others,  whose  virtues,  which  you  must  try  to 
imitate,  have  rendered  their  names  immortal. 

Cultivate  a  taste  for  reading.  The  field  of  interest  and  instruc- 
tion is  boundless,  to  which  it  will  lead  you. 


Little  Frank  and  the  Boat. 

One  summer  morning,  as  little  Frank  Merrill  lay  in  his  bed,  fast 
asleep,  he  dreamed  that  he  was  in  the  top  of  a  high  tree,  and  that 
the  wind  kept  shaking  him  up  and  down,  and  that  at  last  it  began 
to  rain,  and  the  great  drops  came  spattering  in  his  face.  This 
annoyed  him-  feo  much  that  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  found  his 
mother,  after  trying  in  vain  to  awaken  him  by  shaking,  was  drop- 
ping water  in  his  face  from  a  tumbler,  which  she  held  in  her  hand. 

"  Ah,  you  little  sleepy-head  ! "  said  she,  laughingly,  "  here  I  have 
been  trying  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  make  you  wake  up,  for  your 
father  and  I  are  going  out  in  the  new  boat,  to  get  some  pond-lilies, 
and  if  you  like,  you  may  go  with  us." 

Frank  jumped  up  and  dressed  himself  as  quickly  as  possible,  for 
he  had  never  been  out  in  the  new  boat,  although,  in  the  week  which 
had  elapsed  since  it  was  brought  home,  he  had  many  times  wished 
to  go.  As  soon  as  he  was  dressed,  therefore,  he  ran  down  stairs, 
and  scarcely  waiting  to  eat  any  breakfast,  seized  his  hat,  and  off  he 
went  to  the  boat.  But  when  there  he  could  do  nothing  until  his 
father  came  with  the  key,  for  the  boat  was  fastened  to  a  tree  by  a 
chain  and  padlock.  So  the  little  boy  sat  down  under  the  great 
trees,  and  watched  the  little  lue  waves  as  they  came  rolling  up 
over  th^  clean  white  sand,  until  they  almost  touched  his  feet.    Frank 


166  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY 

liked  the  soft  splashing  music  which  they  made,  mingled,  as  it  was, 
with  the  gay  songs  of  the  birds,  which  w^ere  now  quite  wide  awake 
and  happy,  flying  from  tree  to  tree,  and  bidding  good-morning  to  all 
their  little  feathered  neighbors.  So  little  Frank  sat  quite  content- 
edly under  the  tree  for  a  short  time,  and  then  his  father  and  mother 
came,  and  after  his  father  had  unlocked  the  boat  and  helped  his 
wife  and  Frank  to  get  in,  the  boat  was  pushed  from  the  shore,  and 
they  glided  off  into  the  deep  water.  After  Mr.  Merrill  had  rowed 
them  about  in  the  middle  of  the  pond  for  some  time,  Frank's  mother 
said,  "  Now  let  us  get  some  lilies,  and  then  go  home,  before  the  hot 
sun  begins  to  pour  down  upon  us."  So  they  went  to  the  further  end 
of  the  pond,  where  there  were  a  great  quantity  of  lilies  growing. 
•  They  looked  very  beautiful,  with  their  pure  white  corollas  and 
bright  golden  stamens,  looking  like  stars  dropped  just  from  the  sky 
among  the  broad  dark  green  leaves.  Little  Frank  was  delighted. ^ 
He  bent  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  plucking  the  beautiful  flowers 
and  inhaling  their  sweet  breath. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  "  when  the  pond  was  so  very  high,  last  week, 
I  noticed  that  the  lilies  were  here,  on  the  top  of  the  water,  and  now 
that  the  pond  is  at  least  a  foot  lower,  they  are  in  just  the  same 
place.  If  they  are  only  tall  enough  to  come  to  the  top  of  the  water 
nmo,  I  should  think  when  it  was  so  much  higher  they  would  have 
Deen  covered  with  water." 

"  And  so  they  would,  my  son,  but  that  the  Creator  of  all  things 
tias,  in  his  all-seeing  wisdom,  provided  a  w^ay  by  which  they  are 
enabled  to  accommodate  themselves  to  all  variations  of  the  chanmne 
element  in  which  they  grow.  Their  stems  are  spiral,  like  a  cork- 
screw, so  that  when  the  tide  is  high  they  can  stretch  up,  and  when 
low,  they  settle  down.  I  can  give  you  a  very  good  example  of  what 
I  mean  in  one  of  your  mother's  long  curls ;  you  see,  when  I  take 
hold  at  the  end  and  pull,  it  stretches  out  much  longer,  and  then  I 
can  coil  it  up  till  it  is  hardly  an  inch  long.     Do  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father,  and  thank  you  for  telling  me.  But  see 
that  beautiful  lily  just  beyond  the  end  of  the  boat,  —  will  you  get 
it  for  me  ? " 

"Yes,  Frajjk;  but  as  you  see,  now  that  you  have  it,  it  is  no 
better  than  the  others.  You  .must  learn,  my  boy,  not  to  always 
desire  that  wnich  is  'a  little  beyond'  what  you  already  have." 


LITTLE    FRANK   AND   THE    BOAT.  167 

Mr.  Merrill  now  took  the  oars,  and  very  soon  they  all  disembarked 
under  the  shade  of  the  great  green  trees,  and  the  boat  was  again 
fastened  securely  with  its  chain,  and  Frank  carried  the  lilies  to  the 
house,  where  his  mother  arranged  them  in  vases. 

As  Mr.  Merrill  went  into  the  house,  he  hung  the  key  of  the  boat 
upon  a  nail  in  the  back  entry,  and  said  to  Frank,  "  Now  remember, 
ray  son,  that  you  must  never  take  down  that  key,  nor  let  any  of  your 
companions  do  so,  for  you  are  not  old  or  strong  *"iough  to  manage 
the  loat,  nor  do  I  wish  you  to  ever  go  out  in  it,  unless  I  am  with 
you." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  answered  Frank ;  and  his  father  mounted  his  horse 
and  went  into  Boston,  for  he  was  a  merchant,  and  though  he  lived 
out  of  town,  went  to  the  city  every  day,  and  did  not  return  until 
evening.  After  he  was  gone,  Frank  had  his  lessons  to  get  and 
recite  to  his  mother,  and  then  he  ate  his  dinner,  after  which  he  was 
allowed  to  amuse  himself  in  his  own  way  until  night.  So  he 
called  his  dog,  whose  name  was  Ponto,  and  went  down  to  the  pond 
to  make  him  swim.  When  he  arrived  there  he  found  a  boy  about 
his  own  age,  or  a  little  older,  who  was  fishing  from  the  shore. 
This  boy  was  the  son  of  a  poor  and  intemperate  man,  who  lived  in 
the  village,  and  went  by  the  name  of  "  Old  Jake."  When  Frank 
saw  this  boy  he  called  out  to  him,  in  rather  too  haughty  a  tone  for 
such  a  little  boy  to  use, 

"  Here,  you  sir !  what  are  you  doing  on  my  father's  ground  ? 
Take  yourself  off,  pretty  quick  too,  or  I  will  set  my  dog  on  to  you." 

The  boy  looked  up  meekly,  and  answered,  "  If  you  will  be  so 
kind,  sir,  as  to  let  me  catch  some  fish  for  my  mother,  I  shall  be  very 
much  obliged  to  you ;  for  she  is  sick." 

Frank  was  generally  very  good-humored,  but  he  had  allowed' 
himself  to  dislike  this  boy  without  any  cause,  and  he  was  not  now 
disposed  to  do  him  a  favor.     So  he  answered,  angrily, 

"  My  father  does  not  allow  vagabonds  to  go  wandering  over  his 
place  and  catching  his  fish,  and  so  you  may  just  take  yourself  off 
as  quick  as  you  can  go.     Do  you  hear?" 

A  quick  flush  passed  over  the  boy's  face,  and  he  was  going  to 
make  an  angry  answer,  but  restraining  himself,  he  gathered  up  his 
fishing-tackle  and  weirt  away,  without  again  speaking. 


168 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


Frank  looked  after  him,  and  as  he  lost  sight  of  his  form  he 
colored  with  shame,  and  ran  a  few  steps  after  him  to  recall  him,  but 


stopping  suddenly,  he  said  to  himself,  "  Well,  he  is  a  vagabond,  and 
I  know  that  father  would  not  want  him  here." 

So  Frank  threw  a  stick  into  the  water,  and  Ponto  went  after  it, 
and  then  Frank  ran  a  race  with  him,  but  he  did  not  find  so  much 
amusement  as  he  had  anticipated,  for  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  poor  boy,  whom  he  had  spoken  to  in  such  nn  insulting  manner, 
and  none  of  his  plays  were  so  amusing  as  usual.  All  at  once  he 
thought,  "  Oh !  how  I  should  like  to  go  and  row  round  among  the 
lilies  again,  as  I  did  this  morning."  And  he  was  half  way  to  the 
house,  before  he  recollected  that  his  father  had  forbidden  his  going 
out  alone.  He  stopped,  and  turning  slowly  back,  sat  down  under  a 
great  tree  and  looked  around  him  to  find  something  by  which  to 
amuse  himself.  Everything  was  very  beautiful ;  the  sky  was  cloud- 
less and  of  a  clear  brijrht  blue  —  the  jjentlc  breeze  slightly  moved 


LITTLE    FRANK    AND    THE  BOAT.  169 

the  thick  leaves,  and  cooled  the  heated  brow  of  the  restless  boj  — 
the  thick,  short  grass  looked  fresh  and  soft  and  green,  and  the  merry 
crickets  were  chirping  away  in  all  directions  —  the  pond  rolled  its 
blue  waters  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  ever  and  anon  a  fish  would 
leap  up  from  its  bosom,  making  a  slight  splash,  and  leaving  the 
water  to  circle  and  dimple,  for  a  few  moments  before  it  returned  to 
its  former  tranquillity.  All  but  the  heart  of  the  little  boy,  who  lay 
stretched  beneath  the  tree,  was  peaceful  and  quiet.  All  at  once  he 
jumped  up,  and  walked  quickly  toward  the  house,  saying  to  himself, 
"  Father  will  never  know  it,  and  there  is  nothing  else  for  me  to  do." 
He  crept  softly  into  the  house,  and  taking  the  key  from  the  nail, 
ran  off  again  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  he  easily  unfastened  the  boat, 
and  pushed  it  ofi'  with  one  oar,  and  managed,  after  a  good  w^hile, 
and  by  dint  of  very  hard  work,  to  reach  the  place  where  the  lilies 
grew;  but  lo !  there  were  none  to  be  seen;  only,  when  he  looked 
very  closely,  he  could  see  some  little  oval  green  pods,  which  h^ 
perceived  were  the  lilies,  closed  up  and  wrapped  in  their  ^nlyxes. 
Frank  was  extremely  disappointed,  vexed,  and  surprised  ;  for  he  -lid 
not  know  that  these  flowers  always  close  up  about  noon,  and  do  not 
open  until  the  n^xt  morning.  He  paddled  round  for  a  while,  and 
then,  as  the  sun  was  near  the  west,  he  turned  his  boat  towards 
home.  When  he  w^as  about  twenty  yards  from  the  land  he  saw  his 
little  spaniel,  Ponto,  standing  at  the  edge  of  tlj^  water,  and  whining. 
Frank  called  out  to  him  to  come,  and  Ponto  came  swimming  out, 
and  was  soon  at  the  side  of  the  boat.  Frank  tried  to  help  him  in, 
but  in  stooping  over  the  edge  he  destroyed  the  equilibrium  of  the 
boat,  and  over  they  all  went  into  the  water.  Frank  rose  to  the  top 
again,  and  tried  to  scream,  but  the  water  rushed  into  his  mouth  and 
prevented  his  utterance.  He  sunk  under  the  water  with  a  dizzy 
sensation,  and  a  feeling  that  he  was  about  to  die.  In  a  moment 
everything  he  had  ever  done  wrong  flashed  across  his  mind  with 
the  rapidity  of  lightning;  but  in  front  of  them  all  stood  out  his  last 
act  of  disobedience  to  his  father,  and  his  unkindness  to  the  poor 
boy.  They  filled  his  heart  with  keen  anguish,  and  he  felt  that  it 
would  be  easy  to  die,  if  his  spirit  were  free  from  sin.  Although 
these  thoughts  embraced  the  wrong  actions  of  his  whole  life,  ihey 
lasted  but  a  moment,  and  then  he  lost  his  senses,  and  sank  to  the 
bottom. 


170  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

When  Fraik  opened  his  eyes  again  he  was  lying  upon  his  owi 
nice  bed,  and  surrounded  by  his  father  and  mother,  the  doctor,  and 
the  sarne  pale  boy  whom  he  had  sent  away  that  afternoon. 

His  mother  put  her  arms  around  him  and  kissed  him  again  and 
again,  while  she  exclaimed,  "Now  God  be  thanked,  my  chili,  that 
thou  art  still  alive  ! " 

"Why,  mother,  what  is  the  matter,  and  why  do  you  cry  so?" 
asked  Frank,  for  he  could  not  remember  anything  that  had  passed. 
His  mother  told  him  that  he  had  tipped  the  boat  over,  and  that  just 
as  he  was  sinking,  this  poor  boy  (whose  name  was  John  Brown) 
returned  to  the  spot  to  look  for  some  of  his  fishing-tackle,  and,  see- 
ing what  had  happened,  plunged  in  and  rescued  him  before  it  was 
too  late.  Upon  hearing  this,  Frank  burst  into  tears,  and  holding, 
out  his  hand  to  John,  said, 

"  Oh  !  can  you  forgive  me  for  treating  you  so  ?  How  could  you 
risk  your  own  life  to  save  me,  who  had  just  driven  you  away  in 
such  an  unkind  manner?" 

"  My  mother  always  taught  me,"  answered  John,  "  to  return  good 
for  evil,  and  to  do  to  others  as  I  would  they  should  do  to  me.  I  did 
no  more  than  I  ought  to  do  for  you  or  anybody,  and  do  not  deserve 
to  be  praised  for  it." 

The  doctor  here  interfered,  and  said  that  Frank  must  not  talk 
any  more,  but  must  go  to  sleep.  Accordingly,  all  but  his  mother 
left  the  room,  and  Frank  soon  sunk  into  a  sound  and  refreshing 
slumber. 

This  lesson,  though  severe,  proved  very  useful  to  Frank.  It  was 
very  seldom,  after  this,  that  he  was  known  to  disobey  his  parents, 
or  speak  unkindly  to  any  one  not  so  much  blessed  as  himself  in 
worldly  advantages.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Merrill  took  John  Brown  and 
sent  him  to  school,  in  a  town  some  distance  from  whfxe  his  father 
was  known,  and  he  grew  up  to  be  a  respectable  and  Ponest  man. 
Frank  always  was  his  friend,  and  was  more  kind  t^  Mm  than  to 
many  richer  and  more  high-born  men. 


THE    CLEVER    SOY.  171 

The  Clever  Boy. 

BY    MRS.  S.  C.  HALL. 


"Well,  but  grandmamma!"  expostulated  Edwin,  "everybody 
5ays  I  am  very  clever ;  —  now  do  not  laugh;  everybody  says  so, 
and  what  everybody  says  must  be  true." 

"  First,"  replied  his  grandmother,  "  I  do  not  think  that  what 
everybody  says  must  of  necessity  be  true ;  and,  secondly,  in  what 
consists  your  '  everybody  '  ?  " 

"  Why,  there  is  nurse." 

"  Capital  authority  !  an  old  woman  who  nursed  your  mother,  and 
consequently,  loves  you  dearly;  go  on." 

"  And  the  doctor  ;  —  he  said  I  was  a  good  boy,  the  other  morning, 
when  I  swallowed  the  pill  without  a  wry  face." 

"Go  on." 

"  All  the  servants." 

"  Excellent  servants,  Edwin,  for  the  situations  they  are  engaged 
to  fill,  but  bad  judges  of  a  young  gentleman's  cleverness.  The 
rector ? " 

"  That  is  cruel  of  you,  grandmamma,"  replied  our  conceited  l:ittle 
friend ;  "  you  know  he  would  not  say  it,  becav  se  I  did  not  get 
through  the  commandment,  in  the  class,  last  Wed^  esday  evening  -' 

"  Does  your  papa  say  you  are  clever  ?  " 

The  little  felow  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  your  schoolfellows  ?  " 

"  They  are  all  big  boys." 

"  Then  your  character  for  cleverness  depends  on  the  old  nurse, 
the  still  older  doctor,  and  the  servants ! " 


172  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Edwin  was  again  silent. 

"  This,"  observed  his  grandmother,  "  recalls  to  my  mind  one  oi 
Randy  the  Woodcutter's  fables." 

A  very  pretty  little  tree  grew  near  a  quickset  hedge  that  was  cut 
close  by  the  gardener,  and  the  hedge  looked  up  to  the  tiny  little  tree 
with  great  respect.  It  was  so  short  itself  that  it  fancied  the  tree 
was  very  tall;  there-were  several  brambles  and  nettles  also  round 
about,  and  they  were  perpetually  praising  the  little  tree,  and  increas- 
ing its  vanity  by  their  flattery.  One  day  an  old  rook,  the  oldest  in 
the  rookery,  perched  on  the  little  tree. 

"  What  do  3''ou  mean,"  said  the  tiny  tree,  "  by  troubling  me  with 
your  familiarity  ?  The  idea  of  such  a  bird  as  you  presuming  to  rest 
upon  my  branches ! "  and  the  little  tree  rustled  its  leaves  and  looked 
very  angry. 

"Caw  !  caw  !  "  quoth  the  rook,  which  signified  "Ah  !  ah  !  Why. 
])etter  trees  than  you  are  glad  to  give  me  a  resting-place ;  I  thought 
you  would  be  gratified  by  the  compliment  paid  you  by  alighting  on 
your  quivering  bough,  and  by  the  pleasure  of  my  company;  a  little 
thing  like  you  could  hardly  have  possessed  much  attraction  for  king 
rook;  but,  indeed,  I  only  perched  upon  you  because  you  are  a  little 
taller  than  brambles." 


The  dwarf  tree  considered  it  as  great  an  insult  to  be  called  a 
"htt.e  thing  "  as  some  folks  do  to  be  considered  "  not  clever  ;  "  and 


THE    CLEVER    BOY.  173 

he  said  a  number  of  foolish  words ;  amongst  others,  that  "  there 
were  birds  that  could  not  fly  ever  him." 

"Ay,  indeed,"  answered  the  rook,  "wrens  that  never  mount 
higher  than  a  hedge  !  " 

The  rook  soon  flew  away  "  caw  cawing,"  at  the  folly  and  conceit 
of  the  little  tree,  and  meeting  the  gardener  — "  Good  friend,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  just  now  been  much  struck  by  the  conceit  and  absurd- 
ity of  a  little  tree  beside  yonder  hedge.  It  is  rather  a  pretty  little 
thing,  and  might  be  brought  to  something,  if  it  were  in  the  society 
of  trees  taller  and  wiser  than  itself;  but  while  it  has  no  other  com- 
panions than  brambles  and  bushes  it  will  never  try  to  grow  tall :  do, 
good  friend,  take  pity  on  this  tree,  and  remove  it  into  better  com- 
pany." And  the  gardener  had  a  great  respect  for  the  opinion  of  the 
old  rook,  and  went,  the  next  day,  with  a  spade,  and  removed  the 
turf,  and  bared  the  roots  of  the  conceited  tree.  "  It  is  a  stunted  little 
thing,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  place  it  in  society  that  will  draio  it  wp^'' 
and  he  transplanted  it  into  a  plantation  where  there  were  straight 
and  noble  trees.  The  little  sapling  felt  bitterly  its  own  insignifi- 
cance, and  its  leaves  hung  helplessly  from  the  boughs;  there  were 
neither  hedges,  nor  brambles,  nor  nettles,  to  flatter  its  vanity  — 
nothing  to  pamper  its  self-love.  There  was  nothing  it  could  look 
down  on ;  the  woodbine  turned  to  the  oak  for  support,  and  the  wild 
vine  clung  around  the  ash.  Thus^  when  the  little  tree  derived  no 
pleasure  from  looking  down^  it  began  to  look  up  ;  there  was  a  proud 
fierce  sound  amid  the  leaves  of  the  noble  trees,  and  the  breezes  car- 
ried the  sound  far  and  wide.  The  gardener  had  planted  the  little 
tree  where  it  had  plenty  of  head-room,  ard  a  very  beautiful  beech, 
which  grew  near  it,  said,  "  Dear  me,  how  you  are  shooting  !  "  and 
several  of  the  good-natured  trees  remarked  one  to  the  other,  that 
"their  little  neighbor  seemed  determined  to  grow."  This  was  quite 
true  ;  when  removed  from  the  babble  of  low  bred  flattery,  and  olaced 
with  those  that  were  better  and  higher  than  itself,  the  litt  e  tree 
began  to  understand  that  false  praise  —  that  is,  praise  for  what  is 
not  deserved  —  is  the  bitterest  of  all  censures  ;  and  all  his  hope  was, 
that  he  might  grow  like  other  trees,  to  be  useful  according  to  his 
kind.  One  stormy  night,  a  sheep  and  her  lamb  sheltered  beneath 
his  branches ;  that  made  the  tree,  now  no  longer  little,  very  happy, 


174  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

In  a  few  more  years  the  gardener  laid  his  hand  on  his  stem,  and 
said  to  a  gentleman  who  was  walking  with  him,  "  See  what  culti- 
vation —  which  is  the  education  of  trees  —  does  !  This  was  a  little 
stunted  thing ;  but  the  good  society  of  tall  saplings  drew  it  up.  -  See 
what  it  is  now  !  " 

And  another  day,  when  there  was  a  very  high  wind,  the  tree 
saw  an  old  gray-headed  rook  drifting  about,  and  he  invited  him  to 
rest,  and  the  rook  did  so,  and  the  tree  recognized  the  voice  of  his 
old  friend.  "  I  am  happy  to  see  you,  grandfather  rook,"  he  said ; 
"  very  happy  to  see  you ;  you  and  yours  are  quite  welcome  to  rest 
on  or  build  your  nests  among  my  branches  ;  but  for  you,  I  should 
have  remained  as  I  was,  to  be  fooled  and  flattered  by  brambles  now 
—  but  I  have  learned  to  let  acts  and  not  words  tell  what  I  am." 
And  the  old  rook  "  caw  cawed  "  again  and  again,  and  signified  that 
he  knew  the  time  would  come  when  that  very  tree  would  be 
remarked  alike  for  its  vigor  and  its  beauty.  And  the  old  rook  told 
the  history  of  the  tree,  as  old  people  sometimes  tell  histories,  over 
and  over  again. 

"I  am  sure  he  would  be  very  proud  if  it  taught  you,  my  dear, 
the  folly  of  believing  that  you  are  clever,  because  people  who  do  not 
understand  what  cleverness  is  say  you  are  so." 


Stories  for  Little  Fred. 


BY    AUNT   ABBY. 

LAURA  LEE  AND  HER  DOG  POMPEY. 

Laura  Lee  !  Bless  her  pretty  face  !  I  can  never  forget  her.  She 
was  one  of  the  most  delicious  little  fairies  in  existence.  Her  face 
shone  with  truth;  you  couJd  read  every  thought  before  the  lips 
opened,  and  bright  and  beautiful  they  were  too  ! 

The  first  time  I  saw  her,  she  was  only  a  wee  toddling  baby,  lisp- 
ing'her  half-formed  words  ;  with  her  arms  ciasped  around  old  Pom- 
pey's  shaggy  neck,  tugging  away,  and  pleading  in  a  coaxing  tone, 
"Turn  into  de  house,  Pompey ;  Pompey,  tach  a  torf !  " 

I  remember  Laura  in  her  girlhood  ;  wooing  the  sunshine  into  her 
soul ;  talking  to  the  flowers  ;  herself  as  fresh    and  fair  as  a  wild 


LAURA  LEE  AND  HER  DOG  POMPEY. 


175 


mountain  daisy.  Yes,  the  angel  of  life  plucked  every  thorn  from 
her  early  pathway  ;  she  was  the  only  child  of  her  father,  and  he  was 
v/idowed.  Her  mother  died  when  she  was  a  very  little  baby  •  so 
very  small  that  she  could  n't  even  hold  up  her  head  ;  but  her  father 
was  all  in  all  to  her.  He  surrounded  her  with  the  warm  atmosphere 
of  love,  and  she  looked  upon  the  world  through  the  fresh  glass  of 
an  inexperienced  heart.  The  baubles  of  wealth  glittered  about  her, 
but  God  sent  a  cloud  athwart  her  heaven,  to  refine  her  spirit,  and 

^      draw  her  nearer  to  himself. 

s  Deadly  disease  fastened  upon  her  father's  frame ;  his  face  grew 
paler  day  by  day,  and  often,  as  he  pressed  his  cheek  to  hers,  she 
would  feel  his  tears  upon  her  lip ;  and  then  he  would  draw  her  very 
:'4!^ close  to  his  heart,  as  though  he  could  not  spare  her. 

He  died ;  and  they  took  her  into  the  dark  room,  and  turned  back 
the  damp  death-cloth,  and  told  her  that  was  death.     She  looked 

K   very  long  at  first  —  she  was  sure  that  her  papa  was  sleeping!  Then 

B  she  bent  .down  her  little  head  and  listened,  waiting  to  hear  the 
breath ;  but  the  lips  were  stiff  and  cold ;  and  when  she  softly  raised 
her  hand  against  his  cheek,  she  shrank  back,  for  it  felt  just  like  ice. 
She  never  saw  any  one  dead  before,  and  could  not  understand  it. 
Her  old  nurse  tried  to  tell  her,  and  then  she  climbed  up  close  by  his 
side,  and  began  to  talk — "  Father,  father,  wake  up  !  Laura  is  all, 
all  alone  !  Why  did  not  I  die  too  ?  Let  me  die  !  Oh,  father !  they 
will  lay  thee  in  the  dark  ground,  and  the  cold  wind  will  blow,  and 
the  snow  will  pile  up  over  thee  !  Nobody  will  love  Laura  now ; 
nobody  will  hear  her  sing ;  nobody  will  kiss  her,  and  rock  her 
asleep  !     Father,  wake  up,  or  else  let  Laura  die  too  ! " 

Her  kind  nurse  carried  her  out  of  that  still  room,  and  told  her 
though  her  father  was  dead,  and  his  cheek  felt  so  cold,  yet  the  soul 
was  not  dead,  —  that  had  gone  to  heaven  ;  and  by  and  by,  if  she 
was  a  good  child,  and  loved  God,  that  she  would  go  there  too. 
They  would  bury  her  father  in  the  ground,  but  the  green  grass 
would  spring  up  over  his  grave,  and  the  little  daisies  would  blossom 
there  ;  and  the  brook  would  go  rippling  by ;  and  the  robins  would 
build  their  nests  in  the  trees  overhead,  and  sing  all  their  pleasantest 
eongs ! 

The  tears  dried  or.  her  cheek  as  she  listened  to  the  old  nurse's 
tale,  and  she  promised  not  to  cry  any  more. 


176  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

They  carried  her  father  out  from  before  her  face ;  and  she  heard 
the  earth  as  it  rattled  down  upon  the  coffin  ;  she  saw  them  as  they 
rounded  the  sods  over  the  grave ;  and  oh,  it  was  dreadful  to  hear 
her  sob  —  "  My  father  !  my  dear  father  !  come  back  again,  father! 
Don't  be  dead  any  longer  !    There  is  nobody  will  love  Laura  now  ! " 

She  went  back  to  her  home,  and  there  stood  her  papa's  easy- 
•Kair;  .but  there  was  no  father  there,  and  she  sat  down  close  beside 
it  on  the  floor,  and  began  to  cry.  Pompey  came  into  the  room,  and 
began  to  rub  his  head  back  and  forth  against  her,  and  licked  her 
little  hands,  as  though  trying  to  comfort  her ;  and  Laura  always  loved 
him  after  that  night  better  than  before. 

But  they  did  not  leave  her  alone.  Poverty  was  added  to  her  sor- 
row ;  for  in  one  night  all  her  father's  estate  was  swept  away  by  fire. 
All  the  cherished  things  of  home  were  sold  at  public  sale  —  only 
Pompey  remained  to  console  Laura  in  her  loneliness  !  But  she  had 
no  longesr  a  home.  After  a  little  time,  a  place  was  found  for  her 
with  a  hard-faced  milliner ;  first,  as  a  little  errand-girl,  and  after  that 
as  an  apprentice.  Her  mistress  objected  to  taking  Pompey ;  she 
said  ','  she  could  not  afford  to  keep  dogs !  a  good-for-nothing,  lazy 
thing!"  Then  poor  Laura  cried  bitterly — "Do  let  me  keep  poor 
Pompey!  —  he  is  my  only  friend!  —  don't  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  him 
away !  "  Then  a  friend  came  forward  and  interceded  for  Laura, 
and  she  was  allowed  to  keep  Pompey ;  and  after  that,  every  day, 
Laura  and  Pompey  might  be  seen  trudging  about  the  streets  of  the 
city,  loaded  down  by  the  weight  of  bundles. 

But  it  was  a  co|,d  atmosphere  for  Laura,  so  unlike  h^r  home,  with 
her  dear,  kind  father,  that  the  harsh  words  which  her  mistress  gave 
her  stiffened  about  her  heart,  and  half  benumbed  it.  It  was  only  in 
the  free  air^  with  Pompey  trotting  by  her  side,  that  she  breathed 
again.  Many  a  long  talk  she  used  to  have  with  him,  about  her 
father,  and  the  bright,  beautiful  heaven,  far  above  the  stars,  where 
God  lived,  and  the  angels,  and  all  good  people  when  they  died ! 

As  Laura  grew  older,  she  grew  very  lovely;  and  her  mistress 
grew  envious  of  her  extreme  beauty,  and  prest  heavy  burdens  upon 
her ;  and  the  poor  girl  was  obliged  to  plod  about  the  city,  weary  ana 
foot-sore,  and  she  had  no  friend  to  shield  her  from  unkindness.  By 
and  by,  sickness  overtook  her;   and  then  the  harsh  hands  grew 


n 


DIAMOND   MINES.  177 

harder,  and,  worse  than  all,  Pompey  was  pushed  and  beaten,  and 
she  could  not  save  him  ;  and  in  the  night-time  her  pillow  was  wet 
with  tears,  and  Pompey  moaned  to  hear  her  desolate  crying.  Her 
cheeks  lost  their  rich  roundness,  and  the  veins  peeped  out  from  her 
temples,  and  the  red  lips  paled  ;  but  still  her  busy  fingers  worked 
on  —  sew,  sew,  sew  —  at  her  appointed  tasks.  One  night,  Laura  and 
Pompey  stole  out  to  look  again  on  God's  bright  heaven,  and  to  breathe 
the  fresh  air  of  evening.  Eight  years  had  passed  since  her  father's 
death,  and  now  she  wandered  on,  until  she  entered  the  grave-yard, 
nnd  stood  once  again  by  her  father's  grave.  She  sat  down  beside 
it,  and  laid  her  head  upon  the  turf,  and  wept  fast  and  bitterly.  A 
good  angel  awoke  in  her  heart,  and  told  her  that  God  was  good  —  very 
good  and  kind ;  that  he  would  take  care  of  all  his  creatures  ;  and 
even  if  Pompey  should  be  killed,  as  her  mistress  threatened,  still 
God  would  be  always  left;  and  if  she  should  die,  then  God  would 
take  her  soul  to  heaven,  and  they  would  make  a  grave  for  her  close 
beside  her  dear  father's. 

While  she  sat  there,  thinking  of  all  these  things,  she  felt  a  hand 
laid  upon  her  head,  and  when  she  looked  up  a  kind  voice  inquired 
her  name.  "  Laura  Lee,  and  this  is  my  father's  grave  !  "  "  Then 
you  are  my  little  niece  !  "  said  the  stranger,  in  return  ;  "  for  James 
Lee  was  my  only  brother,  and  this,  alas,  is  his  grave  !  " 

Sure  enough,  this  was  Laura's  uncle,  who  had  been  a  great  many 
years  in  Africa;  and  now  he  had  come  home,  to  find  only  Laura 
left,  of  all  his  own  family.  You  may  well  imagine  she  had  no  more 
trouble,  for  both  herself  and  Pompey  were  well  taken  care  of,  and 
in  a  little  while  she  grew  stout  and  healthy  once  more ;  and  now 
she  is  a  grown-up  woman,  and  everybody  loves  and  speaks  well  of 
Laura  Lee. 


Diamond  Mines. 


Vou  have  all  heard  of  mines,  no  doubt,  and  you  have  pictured  to 
yourselves  deep,  and  I  had  almost  said  bottomless,  chasms  in  con- 
nection with  the  subject.     It  is  true  the  term  miney  in  most  cases, 
signifies  a  place  under  ground ;  but  sometimes  this  is  not  the  casj\ 
12 


178  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

I  have  determ  .led  to  oive  you  a  short  history  of  the  various  kinds 
of  mines,  and  shall  commence  this  month  with  the  most  valuable  of 
all  known  substances,  diamonds.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say  valu- 
able, for  in  ono,  sense  they  are  not  so.  People  never  eat  them,  nor 
are  they,  in  any  case,  necessary  for  the  health  or  happiness  of 
mankind.  Diamonds  are  very  rarely  found,  and  herein  consists 
their  great  value.  They  are  very  brilliant  stones ;  and  as  ornaments, 
wherewith  to  deck  and  adorn  a  person's  dress,  they  are  certainly 
unsurpassed. 


It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  diamonds  are  found  only  in  the 
torrid  zone,  and  all  mines  are  generally  about  the  same  distance 
from  the  equator.  There  are  very  brilliant  stones  in  England  and 
various  other  countries,  but  no  real  diamonds.  The  diamond  mines 
of  Golconda  have  been  long  held  in  the  highest  esteem.  The  prin- 
cipal mine  is  at  Raolconda,  five  days'  journey  from  the  city  of 
Golconda ;  this  was  discovered  in  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
country  is  woody  and  rocky,  approaching  the  range  of  hills  running 
across  the  province.  In  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  is  sometimes  found 
a  sort  of  vein  of  sand,  not  more  than  one  inch  wide,  and  frequently 
not  above  half  that  width;  so  that  the  miners  are  obliged  to  employ 
hooked  irons,  with  which  they  rake  out  the  earth  and  sand;  and  it 
is  among  this  loose  stulT  that  the  diamonds  are  found.  They  wash 
*t  w'th  great  care,  securing  all   the  stones  it  contains.     When  the 


DIAMOND    MINES. 


179 


V  sin  ceases,  th  jy  split  the  rocks  still  further  by  fire,  and  thus 
recover  the  vein,  or  find  another.  These  veins  frequently  extend 
a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

The  value  and  beauty  of  the  diamond  are  greatest  when  it  "s  so  per* 
fectly  clear  that  the  stone  itself  is  scarcely  discerned,  but  only  the 
brilliant  ray  of  light  which  its  polished  surface  reflects.  It  is  then 
•called  a  diamond  of  the  fir^t  water;  so  called  from  the  fact  that  it 
resembles  a  drop  of  pure  spring  water. 

The  value  of  these  gems  being  very  great,  and  the  secreting  of 
them  easy,  the  miners  are  obliged  to  work  quite  naked.  There  are 
persons  on  the  watch,  also,  to  prevent  any  diamonds  being  con^ 
cealed.  The  famous  diamond  of  the  Great  Mogul  was  found  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Gani  or  Coulour,  about  seven  days'  journey  from 
Golconda.  This  mine  was  discovered  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  by  a  peasant,  who  was  digging,  and  met  with  a  diamond  of 
twenty-five  carats'  weight.  That  of  the  Great  Mogul  weighed, 
before  it  was  cut,  nearly  eight  hundred  carats.  It  is  not  common  to 
find  them  above  the  weight  of  from  ten  to  forty.  There  are  fre- 
quently sixty  thousand  persons  employed  at  this  mine.  When  they 
find  a  spot  which  appears  likely  to  afTord  diamonds,  they  begin,  in 
some  place  near  at  hand,  to  form  a  cistern,  or  pool  with  clay;  into 
this  is  brought  the  earth  which  the  men  have  dug  out  of  the  ap- 
pointed spot.  Here,  v/ith  water,  they  loosen  the  earth,  and  permit 
the  lighter  mud  to  run  off.  The  stony  substances  which  remain 
ifter  the  earthy  particles  are  washed  away,  are  sifted,  and  then  ex- 
amined in  a  bright  noon-day  light,  which  is  reflected  by  the  dia- 
monds, and  exposes  them  at  once.  Those  who  are  accustomed  to 
the  business  can  sometimes  detect  the  diamonds  by  the  nice  feeling 
of  their  fingers. 

The  river  Succudan,  in  the  island  of  Borneo,  is  said  to  abouna  in 
diamonds ;  but  strangers  are  not  permitted  to  go  thither.  Now  and 
then,  however,  by  great  cunning  and  caution,  some  very  excellent 
stones  have  been  obtained  by  the  Dutch,  and  sold  at  Batavia. 

Diamonds  were  first  found  in  Brazil  in  1728.  The  negroes, 
who  were  condemned  to  search  for  gold,  often  found,  among  the 
sand  and  gravel,  little  bright  stones,  which,  after  examination, 
proved  to  be  diamonds  of  very  great  value.     The  place  is  called 


180  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Cerro-do-frio,  and  is  north  of  Villa  Rica.  At  the  river  Yigit-on 
hou-ha,  however,  is  the  most  important  of  the  Brazilian  mines.  The 
course  of  the  river  is  impeded  by  a  bank  made  by  the  miners,  with 
thousands  of  bags  of  sand.  The  pools  thus  formed  are  pumped  dry; 
the  mud  of  the  river  is  washed  av^-ay,  and  the  earth,  in  which  they 
exj,ect  to  find  diamonds,  is  taken  out  and  carried  away  for  washing 
and  searching.  They  erect  a  kind  of  shed  of  upright  posts  sup- 
porting a  thatched  roof  to  shelter  the  negroes  while  at  work. 
Through  the  middle  of  this  shed  a  current  of  water  is  made  to  flow, 
for  washing  the  earth  which  is  about  to  be  searched.  On  the  sides 
of  the  stream  are  wooden  troughs,  each  about  a  yard  wide ;  and  in 
every  trough  is  a  negro  slave  with  a  rake  prepared  for  the  purpose. 
The  earth  is  then  put  in,  about  a  bushel  at  a  time,  and  a  small 
stream  of  water  let  on.  It  is  raked  over  and  over,  until  the  light 
earth  is  wholly  washed  away,  and  a  sort  of  gravel  only  remains. 
Overseers,  seated  in  chairs  with  whips,  are  appointed  to  watch  the 
process,  and  to  see  that  the  negroes  do  not  conceal  the  diamonds. 
If  a  negro  finds  a  diamond  that  weighs  seventeen  and  a  half  carats, 
he  is  immediately  set  at  liberty  for  life.  He  also  receives  a  present 
of  new  clothes,  and  may  work  on  his  own  account  if  he  pleases. 

It  is  remarkable  that  diamonds  are  of  the  same  substance  as  char- 
coal. To  many  persons  it  must  appear  incredible,  that  the  darkest 
and  brightest  substances  in  nature  are  so  nearly  allied^  Such, 
however,  is  the  fact. 


Anecdote  of  an  Egyptian  Governor. 

A  MERCHANT,  who  had  been  ruined  by  taxation,  one  day  observed 
to  me, — "Listen  to  the  following  story.  You  will  recognize  in  it  the 
image  of  the  justice  of  Mohammed  Ali,  on  whom  be  the  curse  of 
God!  There  lived  at  Menouf  a  rich  manufacturer  of  silk.  One 
night  a  robber  broke  into  his  house.  Having  no  light  with  him, 
this  malefactor  ran  his  eye  against  a  nail,  which  stuck  out  from  the 
wall,  and  blinded  himself.  Discomfited  by  this  accident,  he  got  out 
of  the  house  as  well  as  he  could,  whilst  the  manufacturer  still  slept. 
Next  day  the  robber  went  to  complain  to  the  governor  of  Cairo, 


ANECDOTE     OF    AN    EGYPTIAN    GOVERNOR. 


18X 


whose  nai  le  was  Haraos ;  he  told  him  that  the  manufacturer  of  si)k 
had  put  hi.-n  to  sleep  in  a  room,  in  the  wall  of  which  were  nails,  and 
that,  being  without  a  candle,  he  had  knocked  out  his  eye.      The 


^^ 


g-oyernor  ordered  the  manufacturer  to  be  brought  before  him,  and  said, 
^  When  a  man  sticks  nails  in  the  walls  of  his  house,  he  must  take 
care  and  give  a  light  to  those  who  come  and  ask  hospitality  of  him. 
You  have  not  done  so,  and  justice  requires  that  my  cawass  thrust 
out  your  eye,  as  one  of  your  nails  has  thrust  out  the  eye  of  this 
man.     That's  all.' 

"  *  But  I  do  not  know  this  man  ;  I  have  never  seen  him.' 
"  '  Silence !'  exclaimed  the  governor.     '  Guards,  seize  this  manu- 
facturer, and  thrust  a  nail  into  his  eye.' 

"  '  A  moment  !  a  moment ! '  cried  the  inhabitant  of  Menouf.  *  My 
neighbor  is  a  nan  who  passes  his  life  in  shooting  birds  upon  the 
river  Nile  ;  one  eye  is  enough  for  him  ;  shall  I  bring  him  before 
you?* 


182  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

«  :  Very  good,'  said  Haraos. 

"  The  hunter  was  accordingly  brought  to  Cairo,  where  his  eye 
was  thrust  out.  The  responsibility  by  Mohammed  Ali  is  nothing 
else  —  what  I  can't  pay,  my  neighbor  must.  In  this  way  we  are 
both  ruined  at  the  same  time." 


Old   Ponto. 


More  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  there  lived  in  a  delightful  part 
of  England  a  gentleman  named  Morton,  with  his  wife  and  their  only 
son.  Mr.  Morton  was  wealthy,  and  knew  how  to  employ  his  wealth 
to  the  advantage  of  those  around  him,  as  well  as  for  himself;  and 
many  a  poor  family  looked  to  him  and  his  wife  as  their  benefactors 
and  protectors.  He  lived  in  a  large  and  handsome  house,  surround- 
ed by  pleasure  grounds  laid  out  in  the  elaborate  style  of  those  days, 
with  trees  and  shrubs,  clipped  into  the  forms  of  dragons,  peacocks, 
elephants,  and  a  variety  of  similar  forms. 

Little  Henry  Morton,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  the  only  child  of 
this  worthy  couple,  was  tended  during  his  infancy  and  earliest  child- 
hood with  all  the  assiduity  which  commonly  awaits  the  children  of 
the  rich.  Everything  which  was  thought  conducive  to  his  pleasure 
and  comfort  was  procured,  and  his  fond  parents  tried  to  anticipate 
every  wish.  Thus  the  boy  was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  spoiled 
by  too  much  indulgence,  as  a  great  many  little  boys  are,  who  might 
otherwise  have  been  good  and  useful  members  of  society.  But  an 
event  occurred,  when  Henry  was  in  his  fifth  year,  which  was  the 
means  of  preserving  him  from  the  effects  of  this  injudicious  treat- 
ment. 

At  the  period  of  which  I  write,  there  was  a  great  excitement 
throughout  England  on  account  of  a  band  of  men,  of  whom  I  hope 
you  have  all  heard,  called  the  Puritans.  These  glorious  sufferers 
for  Christ's  sake  were  people  who  had  become  disgusted  with  the 
narrow  bigotry  of  the  religion  almost  universal  in  England,  and  in 
which  every  person  was  commanded  by  law  to  believe.  Such  a  law, 
as  you  will  easily  perceive,  was  unjust  and  tyrannical;  and  the  Puri- 
tans, being  few  and  weak,  resolved  to  fly  from  the  persecution  which 


OLD    PONTO.  183 

they  could  not  overcome.  They  first  went  to  Holland,  but  were  not 
satisfied  with  the  morals  and  conduct  of  the  people,  and  they  Jeter- 
mined  to  seek  a  home  in  a  new  country,  where  there  would  be  none 
to  interfere  with  their  manner  of  worshipping  God. 

America  was  at  this  time  an  almost  unknown  country,  and 
evspecially  the  northern  and  north-eastern  portion  of  it,  in  which  we 
now  live. 

Mr.  Morton  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  tenets  of  the  Puritans,  and 
wished  to  escape  with  them  to  a  land  of  freedom.  But  Mrs.  Mor- 
ion was  in  very  feeble  health,  and  it  was  thought  by  her  fond  hus- 
band that  the  fatigue  and  hardships  to  which  she  would  be  exposed, 
in  even  joining  the  emigrants  to  Holland,  would  hasten  her  death. 
They  accordingly  remained  in  England,  and  their  brothers  in  the 
church  took,  as  they  thought,  a  final  leave  of  England,  and  of  them  ; 
but  shortly  after  their  departure  Mrs.  Morton  died,  leaving  her  hus- 
band sad,  but  not  despairing,  for  he  had  a  firm  and  sustaining  faith 
in  a  meeting  beyond  the  grave.  There  was  now  no  obstacle  to  Mr. 
Morton's  joining  his  friends  in  Holland.  But  they  had  already  left 
that  country,  turning  their  hopes  to  America,  and  Mr.  Morton  sailed 
with  the  first  pilgrims  in  a  ship  called  the  Mayflower,  which  left  the 
harbor  of  Plymouth  in  England  in  the  month  of  September,  in  the 
year  1620. 

The  voyage  was  long  and  tempestuous,  and  little  Henry  was  ver3f 
sick ;  but  in  the  month  of  November  they  arrived  off  the  coast  of 
Cape  Cod,  but  did  not  effect  a  landing  until  late  in  December.  The 
date  of  their  debarkation  is  the  tioenty-second  of  December^  1620, 
and  is  one  which  every  New  England  boy  and  girl  should  fix  in 
their  memory. 

The  populous  and  flourishing  city  of  Boston  was  at  that  time  a 
thick  forest,  inhabited  only  by  savages  and  wild  beasts,  and  there  is 
no  probability  that  a  white  man  had  ever  set  his  foot  in  the  state  of 
Massachusetts  at  the  time  our  Pilgrim  Fathers  landed  on  Plymouth 
Rock.  They  named  their  settlement  Plymouth,  from  the  town  of 
that  name  in  England,  at  which  they  had  embarked. 

The  weather  was  cold  and  inclement ;  there  were  no  houses  or 
shelter  of  any  kind  to  receive  these  poor  emigrants,  already  exhaust- 
ed with  their  voyage.     Trees  were  to  be   felled,  the  ground  cleared 


184  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

and  cultivated,  the  Indians  to  be  conciliated,  and  the  comforts  and 
delights  of  a  home  to  be  brought  together  in  the  bosom  of  the  dreary 
wilderness.  All  helped  in  the  great  work  ;  delicate  women  and  lit- 
tle children,  as  well  as  the  robust  and  hardy  men. 

Mr.  Morton  was  one  of  the  most  active  and  enterprising  of  these 
brave  men,  and  his  opinion  was  much  valued  by  them.  He  was  no 
richer  than  the  rest  of  them,  for  what  little  of  his  wealth  he  ha^  been 
able  to  remove  from  England  he  had  shared  with  his  less  fortu- 
nate comrades,  and  he  was  happier  in  supplying  their  necessities 
than  in  ministering  to  his  own  ease.  Henry  was  of  course  deprived 
of  all  the  luxuries  which  had  hitherto  surrounded  him,  but  his 
fond  father  strove  to  shield  him  from  the  hardships  to  which  most 
of  these  poor  children  were  exposed  ;  and  though  the  little  boy  some- 
times asked  for  his  rocking-horse  or  nurse,  or  cried  to  go  back.  h« 
was  easily  pacified  when  his  father  explained,  in  a  simple  manner 
suited  to  his  capacity,  the  reasons  for  which  they  had  quitted  Eng- 
land. 

There  was  one  of  Henry's  pets  still  left  to  him,  however,  in  the 
form  of  a  Newfoundland  puppy,  whose  mother  had  belonged  to  Mr. 
Morton  for  many  years;  and  Henry,  vvho  hnd  been  very  fond  of  Fi- 
delle,  now  changed  his  affection  to  little  Ponto.  The  dog  was  equal- 
ly fond  of  him,  and  these  little  playmates  were  ajmost  continually 
together. 

The  settlement  progressed  rapidly,  and  soon  every  one  had  a  log 
house  and  some  few  comforts  about  him ;  but  still  their  sufferings 
were  great,  and  they  were  at  one  time  reduced  to  five  kernels  of  corn 
per  day  for  each  person.  Winter  was  just  commencing,  the  ground 
was  frozen  hard,  and  there  would  be  no  hopes  of  cultivating  the  land 
for  many  months.  But  they  did  not  starve,  for  their  cause  was  a 
righteous  one,  and  they  were  prospered  in  it. 

Vessels  came  from  England  with  provisions  and  cattle  or  live 
stock,  as  they  are  called,  and  the  men,  in  what  time  they  could 
spare  from  their  building  operations,  killed  bears,  deer,  and  other  of 
the  animals  which  abounded  in  the  thick  woods  around  them. 
There  are  many  pretty  ponds  about  Plymouth,  and  of  one  of  them 
it  is  related  that  a  party  of  hunters  being  in  the  woods,  one  of 
them,  named   Billington,  ascended  a  little  hill,  and   looked  about 


OLD    I'CNTO.  185 

him.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed,  "  The  Sea  !  the  Sea  !"  and  pointed 
out  to  his  companions  a  large  sheet  of  water,  which  lay  extei.ded  be- 
fore them,  and  of  which  they  could  not  see  the  whole  extent,  ow- 
ing to  a  thickly  wooded  promontory  which  shot  out  far  into  the 
bosom  of  the  lake ;  for  lake  it  proved  to  be  when  they  had  gene 
round  to  the  other  side,  and  had  an  unobstructed  view.  The  man 
was  laughed  at  a  good  deal,  of  course,  for  mistaking  a  lake  for  the 
sea,  and  the  water  at  that  time  received  the  name  of  Billington  Sea, 
which  it  retains  to  this  day.  It  is  a  very  pretty  spot,  and  much  fre- 
quented by  the  young  people  of  Plymouth  for  pic-nics,  boating  par- 
ties, rides,  etc.  I  have  often  been  there  myself,  and  hope  that  some 
time  or  other  each  one  of  mv  readers  may  look  at  this  place  and  the 
Forefathers'  Rock,  which  is  so  celebrated  as  being  the  place  where 
the  Pilgrims  first  trod,  and  all  the  other  curiosities  of  those  times  with 
which  the  place  abounds.  But  if  you  should  ever  go  there,  you  can- 
not fail  to  wonder  when  you  see  this  flourishing  town,  and  remem- 
ber the  dreary  forest  wliich  it  \yas  two  hundred  years  ago. 

While  the  cold  weather  remained,  Henry  obeyed  his  father's  injunc- 
tions to  keep  always  within  the  settlement,  and  not  to  stray  off  alone 
into  the  woods;  for  not  only  was  there  danger  of  his  being  lost, 
but  also  of  bting  carried  off  by  Indians,  or  being  devoured  by 
wild  beasts.  But  when  the  warm  summer  months  came,  Henry 
used  occasionally  to  go  a  short  distance,  with  the  other  children  and 
Ponto,  to  pick  berries  and  wild  fruit ;  and  as  he  had  always  returned 
safely  from  these  excursions,  Mr.  Morton  had  ceased  feeling  any 
anxiety  about  him. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  however,  when  the  party  of  chi.dren 
returned  to  the  settlement,  little  Henry  Morton  was  not  among  them. 
The  other  children  had  not  perceived  his  absence  until  questioned, 
and  then  said  that  he  had  not  been  noticed  since  they  left  the  hill 
where  they  had  been  picking  berries,  which  was  about  two  miles 
from  the  settlement.  Mr.  Morton  immediately  roused  the  neighbors, 
and  the  search  was  commenced.  But  although  the  party  did  not 
return  until  entirely  exhausted  with  fatigue,  no  trace  of  the  missing 
Doy  could  be  found,  excepting  that  at  about  half  a  mile  from  the  set- 
tlement one  of  the  men  discovered  poor  Ponto,  who,  shot  through  the 
leg  with  an   Indian  arrow,  had  dragged  himself  thus   near  to  his 


186  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

home,  and  then,  his  strength  failing  him,  had  stretcher*  himself  upci 
the  grass,  and  was,  when  discovered,  almost  dead.  At  the  sound  of 
Mr.  Morton's  voice,  however,  he  aroused  himself,  and  licked  the 
hand  of  his  kind  master.  He  was  taken  home  and '.arefully  attend- 
ed, and  after  some  time  recovered  his  strength  and  the  use  of  his 
leg. 

Mr.  Morton  did  not  give  up  the  search  for  his  poor  boy  as  long  as 
the  least  probability  of  finding  him  remained  ;  and  when  at  last  he 
was  forced  to  believe  that  his  darling  son  had  either  fallen  a  prey  to 
wild  beasts,  or  been  made  a  captive  by  the  savages  who  surrounded 
them,  he  was  forced  to  exert  all  his  faith  in  the  mercy  of  the  Crea- 
tor to  uphold  him  under  this  severe  affliction.  His  health  was  affect- 
ed by  the  blow,  and  it  was  thought  for  some  time  that  he  would  not 
outlive  the  year  in  which  Henry  had  been  lost.  But  the  strength 
of  a  powerful  constitution  at  last  prevailed,  and  he  recovered  his 
health,  but  not  his  spirits. 

Little  Henry,  in  the  mean  time,  was  far  away  from  all  those  who 
were  so  anxiously  looking  for  him.  He  had  been  a  little  sepa- 
rated from  his  companions,  and  in  trying  to  return  to  them  had 
been  attracted  by  a  beautiful  butterfly  floating  through  the  summer 
air.  He  immediately  started  in  pursuit  of  it,  followed  by  Ponto,but 
soon  lost  sight  of  it,  and  perceiving  that  he  had  wandered  from  his 
companions,  he  tried  to  retrace  his  steps.  Every  effort,  however, 
only  led  him  further  into  the  forest,  and  at  last,  tired  and  frightened, 
he  sat  down  under  a  great  elm  tree  and  began  to  cry.  Ponto  mean- 
time was  frisking  about,  now  here,  now  there,  chasing  the  squirrels 
and  barking  at  the  birds.  Suddenly,  with  a  deep  growl,  he  sprang 
toward  a  thick  clump  of  trees,  from  which,  as  he  approached,  an 
arrow  whistled  out,  transfixing  poor  Ponto's  leg,  and  frightening 
Henry  almost  to  death.  He  lay  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  thicket, 
from  which  in  another  moment  an  Indian  lad  bounded  out,  and  seiz- 
ing hold  of  Henry,  spoke  some  words  to  him  in  the  Indian  language, 
which  the  little  Englishman  did  not  understand.  The  lad  was  soon 
followed  by  a  tall  man,  with  feathers  in  his  hair,  and  his  face  paint- 
ed with  various  colors.  This  man  spoke  to  Henry  in  a  kind  voice, 
and  the  little  boy  began  to  tell  him  in  English  how  he  was  lost,  and 
how  unhappy  he  was.     But  both  Indians  shook  their  heads,  to  signi* 


) 


OLD    PONTO.  187 

fy  that  they  did  not  understand  him,  and  each  cf  them  iak.ng  a 
hand,  they  led  him  away,  leaving  poor  Ponto  helpless  and  bleeding 
upon  the  ground. 

Henry  thought  they  were  taking  him  home,  and  was  somewhat 
alarmed  when,  the  sun  having  disappeared,  he  found  himself  still  in 
the  woods.  He  began  to  cry  with  fatigue,  and  was  very  glad  when 
the  younger  Indian  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  spoke  in  a  soothing 
and  kind  voice  to  him.  Putting  his  head  upon  the  shoulder  of  his 
conductor,  little  Henry  shut  his  eyes,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

When  he  awoke  he  found  himself  laying  upon  a  buffalo  skin  in 
an  Indian  wigwam,  and  nobody  near  him  but  an  old  woman,  who 
sat  on  the  floor  weaving  a  basket,  and  singing  a  low  monotonous 
chant. 

Henry  was  very  hungry,  and  making  a  noise  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  his  companion,  he  pointed  to  his  mouth.  The  Indian  woman 
nodded,  and  rising  from  her  seat,  she  took  out  of  a  basket  in  the  cor- 
ner a  piece  of  broiled  venison,  and  a  large  cake  made  of  Indian 
meal.  These  she  gave  to  the  little  captive,  who  ate  them  with  much 
relish. 

Soon  after,  the  chief,  whom  he  had  seen  at  first,  entered  the  wig- 
wam, and  looking  at  Henry,  asked  some  question  about  him  of  the 
woman,  who  answered  with  a  low  laugh,  and  pointed  to  the  basket 
in  the  corner  ;  upon  which  the  chief  nodded  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, and  left  the  wigwam. 

Henry  did  not  know  who  these  people  could  be,  who  treated  him 
so  kindly,  but  still  kept  him  captive  ;  and  he  could  not  ask  them  any 
questions,  on  account  of  his  ignorance  of  the  language.  In  a  few 
days  they  were  joined  by  a  large  party  of  men,  women  and  children, 
and  all  proceeded  on  their  journey,  which  was  in  a  southerly  direc- 
tion. It  was  many  days  and  nights  before  they  reached  their  home, 
which  was  situated  in  what  is  now  the  state  of  Rhode  Island. 

This  party  belonged  to  a  large  tribe  cf  Indians,  who  inhabited  a 
wide  tract  of  country,  and  were  very  'owerful  among  the  other 
tribes.  They  were  called  the  Mount  Hope  tribe.  They  had  come 
to  the  eastern  country  to  visit  the  Penobscots,  who  were  their  friends 
and  they  had  hunted  together  among  the  mountans  of  Maine  fox 
many  moons. 


188  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

The  visitors  were  now  returning  home,  and  the  chief  who  had 
captured  little  Henry  Morton,  being  a  little  in  advance  of  his  party, 
had  approached  nearer  the  settlement  than  the  rest  of  them,  and  had 
thus  fallei  in  with  the  little  boy,  whom  he  determined  to  carry  home 
as  a  present  to  his  youngest  wife,  whom  he  had  just  married,  and 
of  whom  he  was  very  fond. 

The  young  wife  was  very  much  pleased  with  her  acquisition,  and 
named  him  Mah-to-chee-go,  (the  little  bear.)  Henry  at  first  cried  a 
great  deal  for  his  father  and  home,  but  after  a  long  time,  when  he 
had  learned  to  speak  the  Indian  language,  and  forgotten  the  Eng- 
lish, he  likewise  forgot  his  home,  in  a  great  measure.  He  called  the 
chief  his  father,  and  the  young  Indian  woman  his  mother,  and  they 
called  him  their  son  He  learned  to  shoot,  to  fish,  and  to  swim,  as 
well  as  any  of  the  Indian  lads ;  and  by  constant  exposure  to  all  sorts 
of  weather,  he  at  last  acquired  very  nearly  the  same  corhplexion  aJ« 
those  around  him. 

•^  .AL.  ^^  .V-  •45'  4Ir 

^  •TT'  *7«^  "7r  'Tr  */v' 

Years  passed  on,  and  the  settlement  at  Plymouth  was  no  longer 
the  only  one  in  Massachusetts.  The  hand  of  the  Lord  had  pros- 
pered his  servants,  and  they  were  now  in  a  prosperous  and  happy 
condition. 

Plymouth  had  increased  considerably  in  population, although  many 
of  the  first  pilgrims  had  been  taken  from  them.  Mr.  Morton  had 
becojne  an  old  man,  for  twenty  years  had  passed  over  his  he?ad  since 
he  left  England,  and  the  hardships  to  which  he  had  since  been  ex- 
posed had  left  their  marks  upon  him.  Ponto  was  also  alive,  though 
twenty  years  is  a  great  age  for  a  dog,  and  Ponto  was  now  very  in- 
firm and  decrepid  ;  but  Mr.  Morton  had  him  still  carefully  taken 
care  of,  for  the  sake  of  the  son  whom  he  believed  to  be  lost  for- 
ever. 

The  colonists  were  on  very  bad  terms  with  the  Indians,  who  were 
naturally  indignant  at  the  encroaching  disposition  evinced  by  the 
former,  and  the  battles,  or  rather  skirmishes,  between  them,  were 
very  freq  lent.  During  one  of  these  fights  several  Indian  prisoners 
were  taken  and  broup^ht  to  Plymouth  for  trial.  They  were  placed 
'n  the  jail  for  security,  and  many  of  the  inhabitants  went  to  see 
♦hem.     Among  these  visitors  was  Mr.  Morton,  who  never  negle::ted 


OLD  PONTO.  18^ 

an  oppoitunity  of  asking  news  of  his  son  from  any  of  the  red  peo- 
ple whom  he  encountered,  for,  almost  unconsciously  to  himself,  he 
cherished  a  hope  that  Henry  might  still  be  living  among  some  tribe, 
of  Indians,  and  that  he  might  yet  be  restored  to  him. 

Ponto,  who  seldom  stirred  from  the  house,  accompanied  his  mas- 
ter in  this  visit,  and  was  admitted  with  him  to  the  room  where  the 
Indians  were  confined.  But  here  Ponto,  usually  so  sedate  and 
solemn,  seemed  reanimated  with  a  spirit  of  youth,  for,  jumping  upon 
one  of  the  prisoners,  he  began  to  lick  his  face  and  neck,  uttering 
short  yelps  of  joy  and  recognition.  Mr.  Morton,  very  much  sur- 
prised, exolaimed,  "  Down,  Ponto  !  Down,  sir."  At  these  words  the 
young  man  turned  quickly  round  and  looked  earnestly  at  the  dog. 
Then  turning  to  his  companion,  an  old  chief,  he  addressed  some 
words  to  him  in  a  melancholy  voice,  to  which  the  other  returned  no 
answer  ;  but  as  the  dog  continued  bounding  upon  the  young  man,  he 
took  hold  of  one  of  his  legs  and  attentively  examined  it.  At  last 
he  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  pointing  to  a  small  scar,  asked  some 
question  of  the  young  man,  whom  he  called  Mah-to-chee-go.  Mah- 
to-chee-go  clasped  his  hands  over  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then 
kneeling  down  before  the  chief,  he  seemed  to  be  earnestly  asking 
something  of  him. 

Mr.  Morton  was  regarding  this  singular  scene  with  deep  interest. 
He  felt  an  unaccountable  yearning  towards  the  young  Indian,  but 
knew  not  how  to  express  it.  At  last  the  old  chief  seemed  to  assent 
to  the  prayer  of  Mah-to-chee-go,  and  standing  up,  he  commanded 
silence  by  an  expressive  gesture  of  his  hand,  and  by  the  aid  of  an 
interpreter  told  to  Mr.  Morton  the  story  which  no  doubt  you  all  have 
guessed.  He  was  the  chief  who  had  stolen  Henry,  or  Mah-to-chee- 
go,  as  he  was  called.  He  had  brought  him  up  as  his  own  son,  and 
to  complete  his  education  as  a  brave,  had  brought  him  on  a  war-path 
against  the  white  men.  But,  as  he  said,  "  The  Great  Spirit  had 
frowned  upon  his  children,"  and  he  had  taken  it  as  an  indication  that 
it  was  displeasing  to  him  that  the  son  of  the  white  man  should  dwell 
longer  in  the  wigw  am  of  the  savage ;  and  he  was  willing  to  restore 
the  boy  as  a  peace-offering  to  the  offended  Great  Spirit. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  joy  with  which  Mr.  Morton  re- 
ceived again  his  long  lost  child.     The  old  chief  and  all  his  party 


v> 


», 

«■ 


190  PICTORIAL    MISCELLAKY. 

were  set  free,  and  returned  to  their  own  country,  promising  to  molest 
the  white  man  no  more.  Henry  was  of  course  ignorant  of  all  learn- 
ing, but,  as  he  was  quick  and  industrious,  he  soon  learned,  and  in 
time  became  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  colony. 

And  this  adventure  of  Henry  Morton's,  my  dear  little  readers,  is 
only  one  out  of  many  with  which  the  first  years  of  the  settlement  of 
this  country  are  full.  Do  you  not  thank  God  for  having  enabled 
these  heroic  men  to  create  this  smiling  and  fertile  country  out  of  the 
desolate  wilderness  If 


Iceland  and  Norway. 


All  hands  ahoy !  Here  we  are  in  Iceland,  one  of  the  most  north- 
ern portions  of  the  earth  which  is  inhabited.  Yet,  cold  as  it  is,  we 
shall  find  a  lofty  mountain  here,  more  than  five  thousand  feet  high  — 
a  volcano,  which  frequently  spouts  out  fire,  and  stones,  and  lava.  It 
is  called  Mount  Hecla.  It  lies  on  the  southern  part  of  the  island, 
about  south-west  from  Reikiavik.  This  mountain,  in  times  past, 
has  sent  forth  lava  and  melted  stones  in  such  quantities,  that  whole 
tracts  of  land  have  been  covered  and  ruined  by  it.  Yet  it  is  a  re- 
markable fact  that  while  flames  issue  from  the  crater,  a  huge  chasm 
at  the  top  of  the  mountain,  which  Maurice  Wilkins  will  describe  to 
you  in  the  course  of  his  thrilling  adventures,  while  the  melted  mat- 
'ter  is  running  down  the  sides,  sizzling  along,  and  destroying  every- 
thing in  its  way,  the  snow  at  the  bottom,  in  unexposed  places,  is  not 
melted.  These  volcanoes  are  sometimes  called  "  Pluto's  Stoves," 
but  I  think  a  stove  is  rather  a  poor  affair,  when  sufficient  heat  can- 
not be  raised  to  melt  away  the  snow  on  the  outside  of  it. 

At  the  foot  of  this  mountain,  and,  as  is  universally  supposed,  con- 
nected  with  the  internal  fire  in  some  way,  there  are  several  places 
from  which  columns  of  boiling  water  are  frequently  thrown  up, 
sometimes  sixty,  or  even  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Some  travel- 
lers, who  saw  these  springs,  or  geysers,  as  they  are  called,  in  1804 
leclare  that  they  measured   the  jet,  and  found  that  the  water  waa 


ICELAND    AND    NORWAY. 


191 


thrown  up  two  hundred  and  twelve  feet.  The  largest  of  these  jets 
is  called  the  Great  Geyser,  and  is  seventeen  feet  in  diameter.  Be- 
sides these  intermittent  hot  springs,  there  are  many  other  smaller 
ones,  which  boil  up  one  or  two  feet,  and  these  are  constantly  in  mo- 
tion. The  inhabitants  in  the  vicinity  make  regular  use  of  them  for 
boiling  their  provisions.  A  kettle  is  suspended  across  two  crotched 
sticks,  and  the  springs  serve  every  use  of  a  fire  built  with  wood. 


The  Great  Geyser  —  Iceland 


But  we  must  not  tarry  here.  We  must  leave  the  wonders  of  this 
cold  country,  and  turn  our  vessel  towards  Norway.  Get  your  maps, 
and  trace  out  our  course.  Norway  is  a  long,  narrow  tract  of  land, 
the  northern  part  of  which  lies  within  the  Arctic  Circle,  and  is  most- 
ly covered  with  snov/.  The  southern  part  of  it,  however,  is  more 
temperate,  and  corn  is  sown  and  gathered  during  the  summer. 

Norway  forms  a  part  of  the  dominions  of  the  King  of  Sweden, 
but  it  is  separated  from  that  country  by  an  immense  ridge  of  moun- 
tains ;  over  which  a  body  of  seven  thousand  Swedes  attempted  once 
to  cross,  but  perished  in  the  attempt.  The  scenery  of  the  country  is 
wild  and  highly  romantic,  exhibiting  many  stupendous  rocks  and 


192  nCTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

cataracts.  Vast  forests  of  pine  and  fir  tree*:  are  found,  and  creai 
quantities  of  timber  are  annually  exported  to  different  parts  of  Europe. 
The  sea-coast  is  exceedingly  irregular,  and  resembles  somewhat  the 
coast  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  bordering  upon  the  State  of  Maine,  be- 
ing filled  with  innumerable  islands,  bays,  inlets  and  promontories. 

More  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  persons  are  supported 
by  the  herring-fishery  on  the  coast.  This  fish  is  too  well  known  to 
need  describing,  but  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  about  catching  them. 
It  is  supposed  that  they  breed  mostly  in  the  Arctic  seas.  About  the 
beginning  of  June,  a  shoal  of  herring,  not  less  in  extent  than  the  six 
New  England  States,  comes  from  the  north  on  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  Their  approach  is  indicated  by  various  signs  in  the  air  and 
water.  This  great  shoal  soon  becomes  separated  into  schools,  as  the 
fishermen  call  them,  and  countless  myriads  of  them  fill  the  bays  and 
inlets  upon  the  coast. 

There  are  various  modes  of  catching  them.  Vast  nets,  having 
meshes  an  inch  square,  are  thrown  from  the  fishing  boats  in  the 
night,  which  have  lights  to  attract  the  herring.  A  company  of  three 
men  will  often  take  twenty  barrels  of  fish  in  a  single  night.  The  curing 
of  herring  forms  the  chief  labor  of  the  persons  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness. The  fish  are  carefully  cleaned,  washed,  and  pickled,  and,  if 
intended  for  use  as  lohUe  herrings,  they  are  placed  in  casks  of  brine. 
If  for  red  herrings,  they  are  taken  from  the  salting  tubs,  and  hung  in 
large  houses,  built  for  the  purpose,  in  numbers  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
thousand.  They  are  then  packed  in  barrels,  or  boxes,  and  are  ready 
for  exportation. 

But  perhaps  the  greatest  curiosity  in  this  region  is  an  immense 
whirlpool,  called  the  Maelstrom,  which  is  in  the  channel  which  sep- 
arates the  island  of  Ver  from  the  main  land.  Here,  when  the  tide 
is  rising  or  falling,  the  waters  of  the  ocean  are  whirled  round  and 
round  with  great  rapidity,  and  with  such  violence  that,  when  the 
stream  is  most  boisterous,  and  its  fury  is  heightened  by  a  storm,  it  is 
dangerous  for  vessels  to  approach  within  six  miles  of  it.  Many  ves- 
sels have  been  swaJlowed  up,  and  the  crews  lost  at  this  place.  The 
roaring  of  the  water  is  heard  at  a  distance  of  many  miles  ;  and  if  a 
ship  once  comes  within  the  attraction,  she  is  irretrievably  lost.  At 
first  the  vessel  begms  to  go  round  very  slowly,  and  in  a  large  circle, 


ICELAND    AND    NORWAY. 


193 


gradually  approaching  the  great  deep  gulf  where  at  last  she  is 
dashed  to  pieces  and  entirely  disappears,  the  fragments  being  kept 
out  of  sight  for  hours  together. 

It  often  happens  that  whales,  approaching  too  near  the  channel 
are  overpowered  and  drawn  down,  and  it  is  said  to  be  impossible  to 
describe  their  dreadful  bellowings  in  endeavoring  to  escape.  A  bear 
once  attempted  to  swim  across  to  the  island  of  Moscoe,  situated  in 
the  middle  of  the  channel,  enticed  no  doubt  by  the  sheep  which  were 
grazing  on  the  island.  He  was  caught  by  the  current  and  drawn 
down,  roaring  most  furiously,  so  as  to  be  heard  on  the  shore.  Pine 
trees  are  often  seen, after  having  been  drawn  into  this  vortex,  broken 
and  torn  to  such  a  degree  that  they  appear  to  be  covered  with  bris- 
tles. 


Recovering  lost  sheep. 

In  a  country  so  mountainous  as  Norway,  there  are  many  preci 
pices  among  the  broken  rocks  ;  and  stupendous  waterfalls  tumble,  with 
a  thundering  noise,  from  the  mountain  tops  into  the  vales  below. 
The  scenery  is  of  the  grandest  and  most  astonishing  kind,  such  as 
makes  the  traveller  stand  aghast;  especially  when  he  finds  that  he 
must  cross  deep  ravines  on  a  single  plank,  tottering  with  his  weight, 
and,  by  the  immense  height  above  the  roaring  torrent,  making  him 
giddy.  13 


194  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  a  sheep  strays  from  the  flock,  and 
descends  to  a  great  depth,  or  lodges  on  the  point  of  a  proje,cting  rock, 
where  it  has  hardly  room  to  stand.  When  its  owner  discovers  it  in 
this  situation,  he  bestrides  a  stick,  fastened  to  a  rope,  and  causes  him- 
self to  be  lowered  down,  at  the  hazard  of  breaking  his  own  neck, 
till  he  can  reach  the  straggling  animal,  which  he  at  once  fastens  to 
his  own  cord,  and  then  both  are  drawn  up  together  to  a  place  of 
safety. 

We  shall  see  along  the  coast,  at  the  principal  ports,  great  piles  of 
pine  timber,  so  large,  indeed,  as  to  suggest  the  inquiry  from  you, 
"  Where  does  it  go  to  ?  "  Immense  quantities  are  yearly  sent  to  all 
European  ports,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  and  what  we  now  see  is 
but  a  small  part  of  all  that  is  cut.  Norway,  like  Maine,  seems  to 
be  peculiarly  rich  in  the  means  of  furnishing  the  world  with  timber. 


The  Basket  of  Cherries. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH   BY  ANNE  T.   WILBUR. 

At  the  foot  of  an  old  willow,  on  a  mossy  seat,  fragrant  with  wild 
thyme,  sat  a  young-girl  of  twelve  years,  with  large  black  sparkling 
eyes,  hair  abundant  and  lustrous  as  a  jay's  wing  ;  her  bodice  of  gar- 
net velvet,  her  silk  apron,  her  robe  embroidered  with  flowers,  formed 
a  costume  as  elegant  as  coquettish,  in  delightful  harmony  with  the 
mild  and  yet  piquant  countenance,  full  of  health,  of  the  pretty  bru- 
nette. Bathilde  (that  was  her  name)  had  just  come  out  of  the 
orchard,  where  she  had  filled  a  basket  with  cherries,  whose  plump, 
rosy  cheeks  made  her  mouth  water.  Choosing  from  the  basket  the 
two  prettiest,  she  amused  herself  with  holding  them  to  her  ears,  like 
pendants  ;  near  her  stood  her  pretty  little  goat.  Caprice,  who,  with 
head  raised,  and  beard  projected,  was  fixing  on  her  its  great  yellow 
eyes,  with  comic  gravity  and  attention. 

"  There,  my  Caprice  !  "  said  Bathilde,  "  if  your  ears  were  not  quite 
so  drooping  and  so  restless,  I  would  give  you  also  some  ruby-colored 
pendants." 

At  this  moment,  a  slight  sound  among  the  leaves,  mingled  with  a 


THE    BASKET    OF    CHERRIES.  195 

silvery  ringing,  interrupted  the  discourse  which  Bathilde  had  com- 
menced with  her  goat,  and  she  saw  appear  before  her  a  poor  little 
girl,  of  h  jr  own  age,  with  dark  complexion,  great  black  eyes,  clad  in 
parti-colored  rags,  and  bare-footed,  holding  in  her  right  hand  a  tam- 
bourine, ornamented  with  bells  of  silvered  copper.  This  child's  face 
was  beautiful,  but  its  expression  was  at  once  gentle  and  wild,  care- 
less and  sorrowful.  She  came,  without  uttering  a  word,  to  place 
herself  directly  before  Bathilde,  looking  by  turns  at  her.  Caprice,  and 
the  basket  of  cherries,  without  once  dropping  her  long  silken  eyelids 
?7er  her  large  brilliant  eyes.  This  fixedness  of  look,  the  strange 
attention  of  which  she  was  the  object,  intimidated  Bathilde,  who 
became  as  red  as  her  cherries  ;  for  a 'moment,  she  was  about  to  rise 
and  depart  with  a  little  vexation  at  being  thus  coolly  examined ;  but, 
looking  at  the  little  girl  by  her  side,  and  seeing  her  poverty,  she  lis- 
tened only  to  the  voice  of  pity  which  profoundly  affected  her  kind 
heart. 

"  My  darling,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  cherries,  "  would  you  like 
some  pendants  like  mine  ?  " 

The  little  girl  thought  she  was  offering  some  of  this  fine  fruit  for 
her  to  eat ;  and,  without  replying,  made  a  little  movement  of  the 
head,  signifying  that  she  accepted  with  pleasure  and  gratitude. 

"  AVait,  I  will  myself  put  them  on  your  ears,"  said  Bathilde  ;  and 
approaching  the  little  girl  with  graceful  familiarity,  without  recoiling 
before  her  ragged  dress,  she  put  two  beautiful  cherries  to  each  ear. 
This  was  not  what  the  other  child  v/anted;  so  she  quickly  devoured 
her  beautiful  pendants. 

"Ah  !  "  said  Bathilde  with  surprise,  "  are  you  hungry,  my  darling? 
Hold,  I  have  here,  under  my  cherries,  a  good  cake  with  fresh  but- 
ter, given  me  by  Madeline  ;  it  is  very  nice  with  fruit,  as  you  shall 
see." 

As  she  spoke  thus,  she  took  from  the  bottom  of  her  basket  a  cake, 
which  she  presented  to  the  poor  child  ;  the  beautiful  white  teeth  of 
the  latter  soon  disposed  of  the  cake. 

"  Cherries,  now ;  cherries  !  "  cried  Bathilde,  delighted  to  see  this 
superb  appetite ;  she  took  the  basket  and  held  it  at  a  convenient 
height,  that  the  girl  might  choose  the  most  inviting  fruit. 

Every  crumb  of  the  cake  being  eaten,  three  dozen  cherries  served 


196  PICTORIAL    yriSCELLANY. 

as  a  beverage,  and,  at  the  same  time,  dessert  for  this  improvised su"^' 
per.     The  little  girl  saluted  Bathilde,  and  prepared  to  depart. 

•'  Why  do  you'  not  speak,  my  darling  ? "  asked  Bathilde,  a  little 
surprised. 

The  other  replied  by  a  little  movement  of  the  head  and  shoulders, 
which  signified  that  she  did  not  understand. 

"Are  you  dumb?"  cried  the  generous  child,  with  an  expression 
of  anxiety  and  grief. 

Without  replying,  the  poor  child  seized  her  tambourine,  shaking 
the  bells  lightly,  and  passing  her  little  thumb  over  the  sonorous  skin 
of  the  instrument,  and,  with  this  accompaniment,  chanted  two  lively 
couplets  in  a  language  which  was  not  that  of  Bathilde.  The  song 
finished,  she  executed  two  light  pirouettes,  which  filled  her  little 
short  petticoat  with  air. 

At  this  moment,  a  shrill  and  stern  voice  resounded  in  the  distance, 
calling,  '^  Aca,  Pepita  I  Aca.'^ 

The  songstress  sprang  lightly  up,  saluted  the  gentle  Bathilde, 
throwing  her  a  kiss,  and  saying,  "  Gracias,  senorita  ;  vaga  vm.  con 
Bios."  Then,  light  as  the  wind,  she  fled,  and  quickly  disap- 
peared. 

Astonished,  and,  without  suspecting  it,  experiencing  an  interest 
mingled  with  curiosity  for  the  child  who  had  so  gayly  eaten  her  cake 
and  cherries,  who  sang  so  well,  and  danced  so  gracefully,  Bathilde 
directed  her  steps,  with  all  the  agility  of  her  little  feet,  towards  the 
spot  where  she  had  disappeared. 

M'me  de  Blinval  had  come  only  two  months  previously  to  inhabit  a 
country-house  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  of  Berry ;  so  her 
daughter  Bathilde,  who  had  sometimes  been  allowed  to  run  alone  with 
her  goat  in  the  neighboring  fields,  found  herself  as  it  were  in  a  for- 
eign land  as  soon  as  she  had  strayed  a  few  steps  from  her  old  wil- 
low. The  dear  child  had  ventured  into  the  paths  of  a  warren,  where 
she  was  soon  entirely  lost.  In  attempting  to  retrace  her  steps  she 
buried  herself  still  deeper  in  the  wood  ;  and  after  wandering  an  hour 
and  a  half,  anxiously  and  rapidly,  her  little  limbs  refused  to  carry 
her  further.  Meanwhile,  night  came  on,  and  she  seated  herself  on  a 
bank  of  turf,  weeping  despairingly  with  her  head  on  her  lap.  The 
hours  rolled  away  ;   she  comprehended  that  if  she  did  not  s  icceed  in 


THE    BASKET    OF    CHEKiilES.  197 

firidinjj  her  way  out  of  the  wood,  she  would  soon  be  overtaken  by 
night,  terrible  night,  with  its  shades  and  its  silence  as  fearful  as  its 
mysterious  sounds.  She  therefore  rose,  and  resumed  her  walk  with 
all  the  courage  which  her  poor  little  heart  could  summon.  But,  alas  ! 
the  further  she  advanced,  the  more  was  she  bewildered  in  this  laby- 
rinth, which  at  every  step  presented  a  thousand  obstacles,  a  bush,  a 
group  of  small  trees,  a  ditch  or  marshy  soil  covered  with  heath, 
brush-wood,  and  tall  red  fern. 

This  night,  so  much  feared,  drew  its  curtains  around  her.  The 
sound  of  a  leaf  falling,  of  a  branch-  moved  by  her  parsing  it,  filled 
her  mind  with  terrible  fears  ;  she  trembled  at  the  thought  of  meet- 
ing some  one  of  those  horrible  men  who  prowl  arounf!  at  night,  such 
as  she  had  read  of  in  stories  of  robbers  ;  then,  at  intervals,  she  would 
pause,  breathless,  with  her  heart  chilled,  believing  she  heard  the  dis- 
tant howling  of  a  wolf. 

Suddenly,  through  the  branches  of  a  little  grove  of  pines,  she 
perceived  a  trembling  light,  and  thought  she  heard  the  murmur  of 
voices.  Hoping  to  find  some  honest  wood-cutters,  who  had  been 
belated,  she  took  the  direction  of  the  light,  sto^pping  very  cautiously, 
in  case  she  should  not  think  it  advisable  to  speak  to  the  people  shg 
was  about  to  encounter.  She  quickened  her  p;\ce,  and  soon  found 
hecself  separated  only  by  a  single  bush  from  a  clearing  illuminated 
by  a  large  fire,  in  which  the  voices  which  she  had-  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance sounded  more  distinct,  though  she  soujiht  in  vain  t(»  distin- 
guish the  words.  Gliding  behind  a  bush,  she  put  aside  the  blanches 
of  a  thorn-tree.  Then  a  spectacle,  strange,  unexpected,  filled  the 
soul  of  Bathilde  with  terror. 

Around  a  huge  fire  of  dry  branches,  a  company  of  men,  women 
and  children,  were  lying  on  the  heath,  watching  a  lamb  that  was 
roasting  on  a  wooden  spit.  The  men,  coijffd  with  peaked  haff.  had 
frightful  countenances,  which  the  play  of  the  lights  and  shadows 
rendered  still  more  sinister.  The  women  wore  grotesque  costumes, 
and  their  long  black  tresses  fell  over  their  shoulders.  As  for  the 
children,  they  were  rolling  on  the  turf  around  the  fine,  practising  a 
thousand  antics;  shrill  screams  and  discordant  laughter  arose  from 
all  parts  of  the  group. 

Judge  with  what  terror  poor  Bathilde  was  seized  !     Her  heart  was 


198  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

chilled  ;  nevertheless,  it  was  naturally  so  kind,  so  noble,  that  it  could 
experience  another  sentiment,  wholly  generous,  that  of  pity.  Hei 
darling  of  the  morning,  the  little  songstress,  was  on  her  knees,  weep- 
ing bitterly ;  one  of  the  dark-complexioned  men  of  the  company 
rose,  went  to  her,  and  with  one  blow  on  the  shoulder  overthrew  her, 
uttering  what  seemed  to  be  abusive  language,  for  this  man  also  spoke 
in  an  unknown  tongue. 

"  Oh,  God  !  help  me  !  "  murmured  Bathilde,  rising  with  the  last 
courage  which  remained  to  her ;  she  fled  rapidly,  full  of  the  new 
strength  derived  from  her  terrors,  her  grief  at  thinking  of  what  her 
mother's  anxiety  must  be,  and  her  hope  of  delivering  the  poor  little 
songstress,  who  was  beaten  so  cruelly,  who  was  so  little,  so  droll,  and 
who  ought  to  be  so  good. 

After  another  hour's  walk,  Bathilde's  ear  was  struck  by  voices  which 
made  her  tremble  with  the  joy  of  deliverance.  They  were  calling 
her;  it  was  really  her  name  which  she  heard  in  the  distance  ;  she 
replied  as  loudly  as  she  was  able.  A  few  minutes  afterwards,  she 
perceived. lights,  recognized  the  domestics  of  the  house,  and  fell  into 
the  arms  of  her  weeping  mother,  who  hastened  to  meet  her,  and  re- 
ceived on  her  bosom  all  the  tears  of  this  poor  little  heart,  so  long 
tortured  by  deep  anguish. 

On  her  return  Bathilde  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever,  accom^pa- 
nied  with  delirium  ;  she  was  so  sick  that  she  could  not  relate  her  ad- 
venture until  two  days  after  that  horrible  night.  As  she  terminated 
her  recital,  she  did  not  forget  to  petition  her  mother  earnestly  to  do 
all  in  her  power  to  deliver  her  darling  from  those  horrible  black  men 
who  were  so  mistreating  her. 

"  My  child,"  said  M'me  de  Blinval,  "  I  am  unwilling  to  reprove 
you  for  the  fault  you  have  committed  in  disobeying  my  instructions 
to  you  not  to  go  beyond  the  old  willow,  for  your  forgetfulness,  not 
to  say  your  disobedience,  has  been  severely  punished.  As  for  the 
company  you  perceived  in  the  night  in  the  depths  of  the  wood,  I 
think  it  was  not  a  company  of  robbers.  They  were,  undoubtedly, 
some  of  those  wandering  adventurers  who  have  customs,  laws  and 
rites  of  their  own  ;  who  for  many  centuries  have  been  vagabond, 
living  by  jugglery  and  theft,  keeping  themselves  as  much  as  possible 
aloof  from  society,  yet  secretly  waging  war  with  it  to  live  by  it. 


THE    BASKET    OF    CilF.KH  lEs'.  199 

These  wandering mendicaots  came  originally,  it  is  said,  from  Egypt; 
so  they  are  called  Egyptians,  and  oftener  Bohemians  ;  in  Italy,  Zin- 
gari ;  in  Spain,  Gitanos,  and  in  England,  Gypsies.  These  little 
companies  usually  live  by  stealing ;  so  I  fear 

M'me  de  Brinval  stopped  abruptly.  • 

"  Tell  me,  mamma,  what  do  you  fear  ?"  cried  Bathilde. 

"  I  shall  undoubtedly  give  you  much  pain,  my  child  ;  but  it  is  bet- 
ter to  tell  you  immediately.  You  must  remember  having  run  after 
her  whom  you  call  your  little  darling,  without  thinking  of  your  goat, 
poor  Caprice,  whom  you  left  behind  you." 

Oh  !  Caprice  is  lost.      Answer  riip  quick,  mamma  !  " 

"  Alas  I  yes,  I  fear  so.  We  have  sought  her  in  vain  since  that 
moment;  and  after  what  I  have  just  told  you  of  gypsies  in  general, 
you  see  that  I  must  strongly  suspect  those  whom  you  met  of  having 
stolen  your  pretty  goat." 

"  Ah  Caprice,  my  poor  Caprice  I '"'  cried  Bathilde,  bursting  into 
tears;  "  it  was  my  disobedience  which  caused  your  loss,  and  per- 
haps your  death." 

"  I  think,  my  child,"  said  M'me  de  Blinval,  "  that  you  need  not  fear 
this  last  misfortune  for  Caprice  ;  for  the  reason  that  the  gypsies  are 
accustomed  to  lead  about  among  them  some  animal  of  this  species, 
whom  they  teach  to  play  tricks ;  these  tricks  are  usually  the  most 
attractive  part  of  their  jugglery.  As  for  the  little  songstress,  she  is, 
I  think,  a  child  of  one  of  these  miserable  people,  and  they  were  un- 
doubtedly punishing  her  for  some  fault." 

"  Oh  !  Caprice  !  Caprice  !  "  repeated  Bathilde,  continuing  to 
weep. 

"  Oh  my  daughter,"  added  M'me  de  Blinval,  in  a  grave  tone  and 
profoundly  affected,  "judge  with  what  terrible  fear  my  whole  being 
trembled,  when  you  informed  me  near  what  people  you  had  found 
yourself  alone,  when  I  tell  you  that  these  Bohemians  not  only  steal 
goats,  but  often  take  children  who  seem  to  them  pretty  and  apt,  to 
train  them  to  these  miserable  exercises." 

Bathilde  threw  herself  tremblingly  into  the  arms  of  her  mother, 
who  pressed  her  for  a  long  time  to  her  heart  in  a  close  embrace. 

The  search  for  Caprice  lasted  a  month,  but  Caprice  reappeared  no 
more. 


200  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Eighteen  months  had  rolled  away;  and  a  year  and  a  half,  added 
to  Bathilde's.age,  produced  a  wonderful  change;  if  she  was  not  yet 
a  young  lady,  she  was  no  longer  a  child. 

M'me  de  Blinval  had  left  her  country  house,  and  had  retired  to 
the  pretty  little  city  of  Blois. 

One  day,  in  summer,  M'lle  de  Blinval,  accompanied  by  her  gov- 
erness, was  crossing  a  square,  when  her  curiosity  was  aroused  by 
the  sound  of  a  tambourine  and  fife.  In  the  centre  of  the  square, 
a  circle  of  curious  people  had  formed  around  a  company  of  mounte- 
banks, whose  costumes  had  a  picturesque  originality  ;  these  people 
were  executing  tricks  of  address  and  perilous  leaps.  Bathilde  prayed 
her  governess  to  allow  her  to  look  at  this  spectacle.  The  men  and 
women  of  this  company  were  seated,  with  legs  crossed,  on  the  four 
corners  of  an  old  carpet  extended  on  the  ground,  while  a  young  girl 
was  dancing  in  their  midst,  playing  with  two  balls  of  copper  and  two 
poniards  with  blunt  blades.  The  grace,  the  agility,  the  suppleness 
of  this  dancer  were  admirable.  After  having  finished  the  dance, 
she  saluted  the  circle;  and  taking  from  the  carpet  a  tambourine, 
commenced  taking  a  collection.  During  this  time,  a  child  placed 
two  chairs  in  the  midst  of  the  carpet,  ba?;k  to  back,  then  cried  in  a 
shrill  and  petulant  voice  : 

"Hop!  Zazira  !  Aca !  Zazira !  hop!  hop!" 

And  the  admiring  crowd  saw  a  pretty  goat,  whose  gilded  horns 
were  enwreathed  with  flowers,  advance  on  its  hind  feet.  The  ani- 
mal commenced  climbing  the  two  chairs,  proudly  preserving  its 
equilibrium. 

"  Ah !  dear  lady,"  said  Bathilde  to  her  governess,  unable  to  sup- 
press a  sigh,  *'  I  should  think  that  goat  whom  they  call  Zazira  was 
my  pf.^or  Caprice." 

The  young  danseuse  who  was  taking  the  collection  had  just 
arrived  opposite  Bathilde,  and  was  fixing  upon  her  attentively  her 
large  black  eyes  ;  suddenly  she  turned  hastily,  and  ran  to  a  basket 
full  of  fruit;  she  chose  from  it  some  cherries,  and,  putting  them 
around  her  ears,  returned  to  Bathilde  : 

•'  Buenos  dias,  seriorita  !  "  said  she. 

M'lle  de  Blinval  suddenly  started.  The  rapid  flash  of  a  vivid 
rememtrance  had  just  crossed  her  brain.     In  this  young  danseuse 


THK    BAJ^IvKT    OF    CHERRIES.  201 

she  recognized  the  poor  little  girl  whom  she  had  formerly  called  her 
darling,  whom  she  had  regaled  with  her  bread  and  her  cherries,  and 
whom,  in  the  clearing,  on  the. night  of  her  great  adventure,  she  had 
seen  so  brutally  treated  by  one  of  the  Bohemians.  And.  the  Bohe- 
mians of  the  clearing,  thought  she,  were  they  not  indeed  these  jug- 
glers? And  the  goat,  which  was  at  this  moment  balancing  itself  on 
the  topmost  round  of  the  chairs,  could  it  be 

"  It  is  your  goat,  my  good  lady,"  said  tlie  danscuse,  in  a  low  voice, 
making  a  sign  of  secresy.  Then  she  added,  in  a  still  lower  tone: 
"  Pray  save  me  !  " 

Much  affected  by  this  scene,  Bathilde  ran,  (lew  to  relate  all  to  her 
mother.  M'me  de  Blinva!  appealed  to  the  authorities;  and,  an  hour 
afterwards,  the  company  of  Bohemians  was  arrested  in  the  middle 
of  the  square  and  conducted  to  a  place  of  security. 

Pepita,  the  young  danseuse,  who  had  implored  the  assistance  of 
Bathilde,  related  the  manner  in  which  the  goat  had  been  stolen, 
and  then  added  : 

"  I  also  was  stolen  by  the  gypsies  ;  my  parents,  poor  laborers,  lived 
in  a  Spanish  village  on  the  frontier.  When  I  was  stolen,  I  did  not 
know  a  word  of  French,  anc)*  was  much  too  feeble  to  think  of  makir.g 
myself  understood,  too  young  to  accuse  these  wicked  people,  forced 
to  obey  them,  to  follow  them  in  their  life,  which  I  detest,  and  to  imi- 
tate them  in  their  exercises,  which  I  abhor;  I  demand  succor ;  I  im- 
plore my  liberty  ! " 

This  simple  explanation,  this  confession,  so  naive  and  so  noble, 
were  received  as  they  deserved.  The  miserable  Gitanos  saw  them- 
selves condemned  to  a  severe  penalty,  at  the  expiration  of  which  they 
were  to  be  driven  from  the.  Kingdom.  A  letter  was  written  to  Pe- 
pita's  parents,  but  the  reply  was  that  they  were  both  dead,  and  had 
left  no  property. 

Meanwhile  M'me  de  Blinval  had  received  poor  Pepita  at  her 
house.  After  having  discharged  the  sad  duty  of  informing  the 
young  girl  of  the  death  of  her  parents,  she  asked  her  what  she 
intended  to  do. 

"  Ah  !  my  good  lady  !  "  cried  Pepita,  shedding  a  torrent  ofteais 
"  if  you  could  find  me  a  place  on  some  farm — the  fields  —  lam 
good  for  nothing  else  —  and  I  love  them  so  much  !  " 


202  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Her  requesi  was  granted  ;  she  departed  for  a  farm  of  M'me  ae 
Blinval's,  situated  at  two  leagues  from  Blois,  to  occupy  there  the 
situation  of  second  manager.  Bathilde,  who  had  formed  a  rea,  , 
friendship  for  Pepita,  proved  this  friendship  to  her  by  all  the  affec- 
tionate words  which  she  could  find  in  her  generous  heart ;  but  the 
surest  proof  was  that  she  made  her  a  present  ot  Caprice.  The  goat 
did  not  regret  leaving  its  performances  on  the  public  square  to  sport 
among  the  thistles  and  trefoil  on  the  hill-side,  guarded  by  Pepita, 
and  finding  herself  queen  of  the  little  flock  of  this  new  shepherdess. 

All  the  promises  of  the  young  Spaniard  were  fulfilled  ;  she  be- 
came, by  her  care  and  watchfuhiess,  a  real  treasure  to  the  farm. 
Every  month  she  received  a  visit  from  her  mistress  and  Bathilde, 
who  called  her  always  her  darling  Pepita. 

A  year  passed  away  ;  Bathilde  fell  dangerously  ill ;  Pepita  asked 
to  be  allowed  to  take  care  of  her  young  benefactress.  Her  care  and 
devotion  were  admirable  ;  she  passed  all  her  nights  in  watching  the 
invalid  during  six  months,  at  the  expiration  of  which  Bathilde  had 
entirely  recovered. 

Pepita  returned  to  the  farm,  but  as  the  physicians  had  recom- 
mended goat's  milk  to  the  convalescent,  the  shepherdess  supplicated 
M'me  de  Blinval  to  allow  her  to  lead  Caprice  to  her  every  morning, 
that  the  latter  might  contribute  of  her  good  milk  to  the  kind  mis- 
tress who  had  so  long  taken  care  of  her. 

"  But,  my  child,"  said  M'me  de  Blinval  to  Pepita,  "  you  cannot 
do  it.  Every  morning  two  leagues  to  come  and  two  leagues  to  re- 
turn—  it  is  impossible." 

"  Oh  !  I  have  swift  feet,  Madame.  Four  leagues  do  not  terrify 
me.  For  my  good  friend,  M'lle  Bathilde,!  could  make  a  pilgrimage 
on  foot  to  Rome." 

"  Try,  then,  Pepita  ;  we  will  see." 

Pepita  tried,  and,  during  three  months,  travelled  her  four  leagues, 
coming  each  morning,  full  of  courage,  to  bring  Caprice  to  Bathilde, 
and  returning,  each  time,  full  of  happiness. 

This  simple  and  firm  devotion  was  gratefully  acknowledged  ;  M'me 
de  Blinval  took  Pepita  home,  put  her  under  the  care  of  skilful  mas- 
ters, and  a  year  and  a  half  had  not  elapsed  ere  the  little  gypsy  be- 
came a  companion  for  them. 


'HE    i'EACOCK. 


203 


M'me  de  Blinval  has  returned  to  her  estate  at  Berry.  In  the  beau- 
tiful days  of  summer,  at  the  foot  of  an  old  willow,  on  a  seat  of  moss 
fragrant  with  wild  thyme,  may  be  often  se^n  two  pretty  young  girls, 
conversing  pleasantly  together,  with  a  basket  of  cherries  beside 
them,  and  a  Vautiful  goat  lying  at  their  feet  on  the  flowery  turf. 


The  Peacock. 

If  there  is  anything  in  this  world  for  which  Mark  Forrester  has 
a  dislike,  it  is  a  great,  proud,  noisy  peacock.  I  am  willing  to  admit 
that  so  far  as  outside  appearances  go,  they  are  very  gaudy,  and  I 
suppose  many  people  would  call  them  beautiful ;  but  there  seems  to 
be  so  much  show  and  parade  about  them,  so  much  pride  and  impor- 
tance about  all  their  movements,  that  I  always  associate  them  in  my 
mind  with  a  pop-gun.  I  can  endure  the  strutting  of  a  huge  gobble 
turkey  very  well.  His  movements  are  generally  upon  the  shabby- 
genteel  order,  and  he  shows  himself  to  be  humbug  a  once.     But  he 


204  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

is  a  us(*ful  3ird.  and  I  am  inclined  to  overlook  his  follies  for  the  good 
he  does.  But  the  peacock  is  harbored  principally  for  ornament, 
and  has  very  few  pretensions  to  usefulness. 

A  few  days  since  I  went  a  short  distance  into  the  country  to  visit 
an  old  acquaintance.  He  resides  in  a  still,  secluded  "--ot,  down  in 
a  valley,  shaded  with  trees,  which  exhibits  every  appearance  of  a 
peaceable  home.  This  is  just  such  a  place  as  I  should  like  to  live 
in,  said  I  to  my  friend,  as  we  were  walking  over  his  garden.  I  had 
no  sooner  spoken  those  words  than  a  great  peacock,  which  sat  upon 
an  old  tree  a  short  distance  off,  commenced  his  disagreeable  yelling. 
I  am  sure  the  noise  of  the  Indians,  spoken  of  by  Miles  Hawthorne, 
cannot  be  much  worse.  And  the  most  provoking  part  of  it  was  that 
he  seemed  to  be  calling  me,  "  Old  Mark  !  Old  Mark  !  "  After  get- 
ting entirely  out  of  breath,  he  put  on  a  rftost  vain  appearance,  and 
spread  out  his  tail  until  it  was  larger  than  a  cart-wheel,  eying  me 
all  the  while,  as  though  I  had  come  all  the  way  to  see  and  admire 
him.  He  was  a  fine-looking  bird,  and  if  he  could  have  left  off  all 
appearance  of  vanity,  1  might  have  been  tempted  to  applaud  his  per- 
formance. 

It  may  be  thp.t  I  was  offended  at  his  calling  me  names.  You  have 
doubtless  all  heard  of  Teddy,  the  Irishman.  Teddy  was  returning 
from  work,  one  evenino;,  and  1  suppose  he  was  not  just  then  strictly 
a  temperance  man.  Well,  he  sat  down  on  the  bank  of  a  pond  to 
rest.  Just  then  a  frog  put  up  his  head  and  began  to  sing,  "  Teddy 
got  drunk!  Teddy  got  drunk  !"  "  Shut  your  mouth,  ye  spalpeen," 
said  Teddy.  "  I  have  taken  no  dhrap  the  day  at  all  at  all  ;"  and  splash 
went  a  big  stone  at  the  offender's  head.  The  noise  started  other 
frogs,  and  in  a  few  moments  Teddy  had  more  than  he  could  do  to 
silence  their  slanders.  At  length  the  row  became  general,  and 
Teddy  was  ^liged  to  give  up  in  despair  and  go  home  ;  but  he  always 
shunned  th    pond  afterwards. 


A  person  went  into  a  shoemaker's  shop  to  purchase  a  pair  of  boots.  Tiie 
f.nce  was  three  dollars,  and  he  gave  the  shoemaker  a  ten  dollar  bill,  vvliich 
i  i-  vvr.s  obliged  to  get  changed  in  an  adjoining  store.  After  the  piirchusct 
li.itl  been  gone  some  time  the  merchant  discovered  that  the  ten  doikir  Ijil!  u:.^ 
comitnrfeil,  and  he  al  once  returned  it  to  the  shoemaker,  who  gave,  him  ro,,,! 
njuney  for  it.      Now  liie  question  is,  how  much  did  the  shoemaker  Io.sl-  ' 


TIN    MINES. 


205 


Tin  Mines. 


I  GAVE  you,  on  a  preceding  page,  a  sketch  of  diamond  mines. 
I  now  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  about  tin.  Tin  has  been  found  in 
several  countries,  but  very  few  mines  have  proved  of  any  great 
value.  The  tin  mines  of  Cornwall,  England,  are  the  best.  It  is 
supposed  that  these  mines  have  been  worked  over  two  thouoand 
years.  There  are  between  twenty  and  thirty  now  in  use.  The 
descent  to  them  is  by  a  perpendicular  pit  called  a  shaft.  A  rope 
with  a  bucket,  or  hibbuty  at  each  end,  is  fixed  to  a  windlass  at  the  top, 
and  a  load  carried  up  and  another  one  ciovvn  at  the  same  time.  The 
descent  in  one  of  these  buckets  is  rather  hazardous,  though  acci- 
dents rarely  occur. 

When  the  vein  of  ore  is  first  discovered,  it  is  frequently  less  than 
an  inch  thick ;  but  as  the  miners  follow  it,  it  increases,  and  becomes 
more  valuable.  The  adjoining  rock  is  blasted  with  gunpowder,  to 
get  at  the  ore  conveniently.  Frequently  the  vein  ceases  abruptly, 
as  if  it  had  been  suddenly  snapped  off.  When  such  is  the  case, 
experienced  miners  soon  discover  the  disconnected  part,  and  proceed 
again  in  their  excavations.  Tlie  tin  mines  now  worked  at  Polgooth, 
in  Cornwall,  are  nearly  seven  hundred  feet  in  depth.  The  water 
which  accumulates  at  the  bottom  of  the  mines  is  generally  pumped 
out  by  steam-engines  of  great  power.     Sometimes,  when  the  mine 


206  ^  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

is  on  high  ground,  the  workmen  pierce  a  passage  from  the  bottom 
sloping  downwards  to  the  level  country,  to  let  the  water  run  off. 
These  passages. are  called  adits,  and  they  are  sometimes  dug  at  the 
expense  of  several  years'  labor. 

When  the  ore  is  brought  to  the  surface  of  the  earth,  it  is  thrown 
into  heaps,  and  broken  with  large  hammers.  In  this  broken  state 
it  is  carried  to  the  stamping-mill,  where  it  is  turned  into  a  sloping 
trough,  and  a  small  stream  of  water  assists  it  in  sliding  down  into 
the  case  where  the  lifters  work.  These  are  pieces  of  timber,  shod 
with  large  masses  of  iron  ;  they  are  raised  and  let  fall  again  by  a 
water-wheel.  The  ore  is  repeatedly  washed  before  it  is  brought  to 
be  melted.  When  melted,  it  runs  into  large  oblong  moulds,  each 
of  which  contains  about  three  hundred  weight  of  pure  tin.  It  must 
now  be  conveyed  to  some  one  of  the  stannary  towns,  to  be  marked 
and  assayed,  or,  as  they  call  it  there,  coined.  This  is  done  by 
officers  appointed  by  the  Duke  of  Cornwall.  They  cut  off  one 
corner,  and  then  stamp  it  with  the  proper  seal  and  the  name  of  the 
melter.  This  gives  assurance  to  the  purchaser  that  it  is  pure  tin, 
and  tells  all  whom  it  may  concern  thai  the  duty,  which  is  four  shil- 
lings on  a  hundred  weight,  has  been  paid.  There  are  laws,  called 
stannary  laws,  by  which  all  these  mines  are  regulated.  Every  case 
relating  to  them  must  be  tried  before  their  own  courts,  and  cannot 
be  removed  elsewhere. 

The  whole  conduct  of  the  mine  and  miners  is  under  one  person, 
called  the  captain  of  the  mine.  Beside  knowing  the  proper  methods 
of  getting  the  ore  out  of  the  rock,  he  must  have  some  knowledge 
of  mechanics,  algebra,  and  geometry.  He  would  be  unfit  for  the 
office,  if  he  could  not  at  any  time  point  out,  upon  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  the  spot  exactly  over  that  where  the  miners  were  operat- 
ing; so  that,  if  it  should  be  necessary  to  sink  another  shaft,  he  could 
conduct  it  perpendicularly  down  to  the  very  spot  where  it  is  wished 
for,  though  at  a  great  depth  in  the  earth,  and  notwithstanding  all 
ihe  windings  of  the  mine. 

Tin  has  been  found  in  the  mountains  of  Saxony,  in  Germany;  in 
Spain,  near  Portugal ;  in  some  parts  of  Asia ;  and  in  South  Amer- 
ica. A  mine  is  also  in  existence  in  the  island  of  Banca,  near 
Sumatra. 


lORUESTERS    EVENINGS    AT    HOME. 


207 


Forrester's  Evenings  at  Home. 


WATER. 

M.  F.  Well,  this  is  <a  storm.  When  I  gave  out  the  subject, 
water,  at  our  last  meeting,  I  did  not  anticipate  the  pleasure  of  corning 
to  see  you  with  a  wet  jacket.  But  I  see  you  have  a  good  warm  fire, 
so  I  shall  soon  be  comfortable.  lam  glad  to  see  so  many  new  faces 
here  to-night.  Be  assured,  none  of  you  will  regret  your  time  spent 
in  search  after  knowledge. 

Henry  I  hope  you  will  tell  us  about  the  clouds  and  rain  to- 
night.    It  is  a  subject  closely  connected  with  water. 

M.  F.  We  shall  not  reach  that  at  present.  The  formation  of 
clouds,  and  the  causes  of  rain  and  snow,  are  not  easily  understood. 
Yet,  by  and  by,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  discuss  the  subject  so  as  to  give 


208  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

you  some  general  idea  of  it.     But  to-night  we  have  another  theme 
And  now  which  of  you  can  tell  me  of  what  water  is  composed? 

George.  I  have  heard  that  it  was  composed  of  a  combination  of 
gases,  but  I  do  not  know  the  names  of  them. 

M.  F.  Water  is  a  combination  of  eight  parts  of  oxygen  and  one 
of  hydrogen,  by  weight,  or  of  two  parts  of  hjj-drogen  and  one  of  oxy- 
gen, by  measure.  By  a  series  of  experiments,  which  have  been 
made  by  scientific  men,  it  is  known  that  water  can  be  decomposed, 
that  is,  the  two  gases  can  be  separated.  If  two  thin  wires,  connect- 
ed with  the  poles  of  a  galvanic  battery,  be  so  placed  that  one  end  of 
each  shall  enter  a  glass  vessel,  a  portion  of  water  contained  therein 
will  be  decomposed,  and  the  gaseous  product  will  be  collected  in 
tubes,  fixed  immediately  over  the  point  of  each  wire.  The  wire 
connected  with  the  positive  pole  of  the  battery  gives  out  oxygen  ; 
that  with  the  other,  or  negative  pole,  hydrogen.  I  do  not  suppose 
that  you  can  understand  fully  this  matter  now,  yet  it  will  be  well  to 
fix  it  in  your  memory. 

Flora.  Pray,  Mr.  Forrester,  how  can  air  exist  in  the  water  ? 
You  told  us  at  the  last  evening,  when  we  were  talking  about  the 
atmosphere,  that  there  was  air  in  the  water,  and  then  a  short  time 
after,  you  said  air  was  lighter  than  water,  and  that  it  rose  in  bubbles 
to  the  top  of  the  water. 

M.  F.  A  very  proper  question.  It  is  now  rendered  very  certain 
that  water  is  composed  of  very  small  particles,  nearly,  or  quite  round 
in  form,  and  that  the  spaces  between  are  fiLed  with  air,  just  like  a 
tea-cup  full  of  fine  shot  or  mustard  seed,  only  infinitely  smaller. 
These  particles  cannot  be  seen,  they  are  so  small,  and  the  air  in 
water,  when  it  rises  in  any  considerable  quantity,  displaces  them. 
Liquids,  when  left  to  themselves,  naturally  form  into  the  globular 
shape.  Shot  are  made  by  pouring  melted  lead  through  a  sieve,  at 
the  top  of  some  high  building.  As  soon  as  the  drops  are  left  to 
themselves  they  acquire  the  proper  shape,  and  before  reaching  the 
ground  they  cool  and  become  hard.  Drops  of  rain,  when  falling, 
are  round.  Hail-stones  are  rough  when  they  reach  the  ground. 
Now  can  any  one  tell  me  why  they  are  not  round  lik^shot,  for  they 
are  made  in  the  same  way,  substantially? 

George.  Perhaps  it  is  the  wind,  for  I  have  noticed  that  high 
winds  generally  accompany  hail-storms. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  209 

M.  F.  You  are  doubtless  correct.  There  seems  to  be  some  dis- 
pute about  the  precise  way  in  which  hail-stones  are  formed.  It  is, 
however,  true  that  they  are  frozen  drops  of  rain.  There  are  strong- 
reasons  for  believing  that  electricity,  that  subtle  fluid  which  pervades 
all  creation,  the  most  vironderful,  fearful,  and  unknown  agent,  has 
some  connection  with  the  formation  of  hail.  If  so,  probably  no  one 
will  ever  be  able  to  say  exactly  the  cause  and  manner  of  their  form- 
ation. Another  theory  is  that  the  hail-stones,  at  first,  are  no  larg- 
er than  the  smallest  drops  of  rain,  and  that  in  falling  through  a 
cioud  other  drops  are  attached  to  them,  and  become  frozen ;  thus 
causing  them  to  grow  larger  and  larger,  until  they  reach  the  ground. 

Flora.     How  large  hail-stones  ever  fall  ? 

M.  F.  It  would  be  impossible  to  say,  as  there  are  frequent  hail- 
storms in  mountainous  countries,  which  are  uninhabited.  I  have 
seen  them  of  considerable  size  n^yself.  I  sat  under  the  shelter  of  a 
huge  rock,  high  on  the  White  Mountains,  many  year.;  ago,  with 
a  friend,  during  a  very  severe  hail-storm.  It  was  in  June,  and  one  of 
the  hottest  days  of  the  season.  Our  dog  was  a  short  way  off,  barking 
at  a  gray  squirrel,  when  the  hail  began  to  come  down,  but  he  very 
soon  came  running  towards  us,  yelping  in  a  most  piteous  manner. 
The  storm  lasted  but  a  very  few  minutes,  not  more  than  five,  yet  in  that 
short  period  a  great  quantity  of  hail  fell.  I  could  have  easily  picked 
up  a  bushel  of  hail-stones  as  large  as  butternuts.  Most  of  them 
were  much  smaller,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  stones  were 
no  larger  than  walnuts.  A  vast  quantity  of  green  leaves  and  tender 
twigs  from  the  trees  were  also  cut  off,  and  fell  down,  nearly  cover- 
ing the  ground.  Hail-storms  are  very  common  in  the  south  of 
France,  and  on  the  Pyrenees  mountains.  The  hail-stones  which 
fall  there  are  frequently  as  large  as  a  hen's  egg,  and  there  is  no  rea- 
son to  doubt  that  they  have  fallen  even  twice  that  size.  But  I  think 
we  are  wandering  from  our  subject  somewhat. 

I  have  told  you  that  water  can  be  decomposed,  and  the  two  gases, 
of  which  it  is  formed,  weighed  and  measured. 

Helen  Williams.     What  if  the  two  gases  be  put  together  again  ? 

M.  F.  I  have  been  waiting  to  have  some  of  my  new  acquaint- 
ances "  break  the  ice  "  for  some  time.  I  am  glad  to  find  you  are 
all  interested.  If  the  two  gases  are  put  together  again  and  inflamed. 
14 


210  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

they  become  water  as  before.  But  they  must  be  in  the  exact  pro 
portions  1  have  named.  If  we  take  three  parts  of  hydrogen  to  one 
of  oxygen,  and  explode  them,  one  part  of  the  hydrogen  will  remain 
uncombined.  Oxygen  and  hydrogen,  when  mixed  in  the  right  pro- 
portions to  form  water,  are  very  explosive,  and  it  is  unsafe  to  experi- 
ment with  them  except  in  very  small  quantities. 

Water  freezes  at  thirty-two  degrees  above  zero.  Fresh  water  con- 
geals much  quicker  than  sea-water.  Probably  the  constant  motion 
of  the  waves  of  the  ocean  acts  as  a  preventive.  About  seven  tenths 
of  the  earth's  surface  is  covered  with  water.  Of  course  this  includes 
both  fresh  and  salt  water,  lakes,  rivers  and  ponds,  as  well  as  oceans. 

Henry.  1  once  heard  an  old  sailor  say  that  the  ocean,  in  some 
places,  had  no  bottom.     Don't  you  suppose  that  he  knew  better? 

M.  F.  I  cannot  tell.  A  single  moment's  reflection  would  con- 
vince any  person,  not  a  complete  idiot,  that  the  ocean  must  have  a 
iiottom.  The  ocean  is  so  deep  in  some  places  that  no  bottom  has 
ever  been  found  by  sounding,  and  perhaps  this  was  what  the  sailor 
tiieant.  There  are  various  obstacles  to  prevent  sounding  to  a  great 
depth.  As  the  lead  sinks,  the  water  becomes  more  and  more 
^nse  or  compact,  and  consequently  the  lead  becomes  comparatively 
lighter.  Then  again  the  motion  of  the  ship  tends  to  curve  the  line, 
so  that  the  sinking  of  the  lead  is  impeded.  Scoresby  sounded  the 
Greenland  Ocean  to  the  depth  of  seven  thousand  two  hundred  feet, 
over  a  mile  and  a  quarter,  without  finding  any  bottom.  Others 
have  sent  the  lead  still  deeper ;  and  it  is  at  least  probable  that  the 
ocean  is  somewhat  deeper,  in  some  places,  than  the  height  of  the 
highest  mountain,  or  over  five  miles.  Whether  any  unknown  fishes 
or  sea-monsters  live  at  this  great  depth,  we  cannot  tell. 

Flora.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  understand  how  fishes  separate  the 
air  from  the  water  when  they  breathe. 

M.  F.  God  has  provided  them  with  apparatus,  perfect  and  com- 
plete. The  water  is  thrown  oflf  through  the  gills.  If  you  were  to 
hold  a  fish's  gills  so  that  it  could  not  open  them,  the  creature 
would  soon  die. 

George.  Several  years  ago,  I  heard  a  person  say  that  it  would 
not  kill  fishes  to  freeze  them.  I  suppose  he  must  have  been  mis- 
taken. 


ALEXANDER   HAMILTON.  211 

31.  F.  No;  he  was  without  doubt  correct.  Fishes  are  cold- 
blooded, and  in  that  respect  differ  from  all  other  animate  objects.  I 
have  never  seen  the  experiment  tried,  yet  there  is  abundant  evidence 
to  prove  that  not  only  fishes,  but  frogs,  snails,  and  lizards,  after  be- 
ing frozen  hard,  solid  as  a  stone,  are  capable  of  being  reanimated. 
Ah  !  I  see  symptoms  of  unbelief  in  several  countenances.  Well,  1 
cannot  wonder.  It  does  seem  almost  impossible.  And  yet  it  is  as 
well  known  in  some  northern  countries  as  any  other  fact.  Not  only 
so,  but  various  experiments  have  been  tried  to  ascertain  the  fact. 
Sir  John  Franklin,  the  enterprising  navigator,  now  in  the  northern 
seas,  and  about  whose  safety  there  is  so  much  interest  manifested, 
both  in  this  country  and  Europe,  while  at  Fort  Chipewyan,  in 
March,  1S20,  makes  the  following  notes :  "  It  may  be  worthy  of  no- 
tice here,  that  the  fish  froze  as  soon  as  they  were  taken  out  of  the 
nets,  and  in  a  short  time  became  solid  masses  of  ice.  Of  course 
they  exhibited  no  signs  of  life.  If,  however,  in  this  completely  frozen 
state  they  were  thawed  before  the  fire,  they  recovered  their  anima- 
tion. This  was  particularly  the  case  with  the  carp,  and  we  had  oe- 
casion  to  observe  it  repeatedly,  as  Doctor  Richardson  occupied  him- 
self in  examining  the  structure  of  the  different  species  of  fish,  and 
was  always,  in  the  winter,  obliged  to  thaw  them  before  he  could  cut 
them.  We  have  seen  a  carp  recover  so  far  as  to  leap  about  with 
great  vigor,  after  it  had  been  frozen  for  thirty-six  hours." 

If  frozen  fish  are  thawed  in  cold  water,  they  live  ultimately, 
though  when  brought  to  a  fire  they  never  thoroughly  recover,  but 
soon  die.  This  is  because  it  is  an  unnatural  way  to  thaw  them. 
You  know  that  when  individuals  freeze  their  ears,  fingers,  or  toes, 
it  is  exceedingly  dangerous  to  thaw  them  by  a  fire.  But  by  putting 
on  snow  or  cold  water,  the  extremities  soon  lose  their  numbness. 

But  we  must  break  off. 


Alexander  Hamilton. 

We  present  to  our  young  patrons,  in  this  article,  a  portrait  and 
sketch  of  the  life  of  one  of  the  remarkable  men  of  the  Revolution. 
God,  it  would  seem,  raised  up  a  class  of  men  well  fitted,  by  natural 


21^ 


PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


iili;[|||iiiilHHIlilll|lii!lliiiilllll:iil|li||ililiiil|||!li!ii|ii!ii||^ 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON.  2l8 

gifts  and  endowments,  for  the  special  work  of  laying  the  foundation 
of  this  great  republic.  There  was  Washington,  and  Hancock,  and 
Adams,  (the  father  of  John  Quincy  Adams,)  and  Otis,  and  Jay,  and 
Franklin,  and  Jefferson,  and  Madison,  and  Hamilton,  the  subject  of 
this  sketch,  who,  though  named  last,  was  by  no  means  least  in  the 
host.  While  thinking  of  them,  one  cannot  but  think  of  that  text  of 
Scripture,  —  "And  there  were  giants  in  those  days." 

Alexander  Hamilton  was  born  in  the  year  1757,  on  the  11th  of 
January.  His  birth-place  was  the  Island  of  Nevis,  then,  as  now,  in 
the  possession  of  England.  You  will  find  it  among  the  West  In- 
dia Islands.  He  was  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  great  families  of 
the  old  realm  of  old  England,  though,  in  our  estimation,  this  con- 
fers no  honor  upon  him,  as  greatness ^  we  mean  true  greatness,  is 
not  hereditary.     His  mother  was  of  French  descent. 

Alexander  was  the  youngest  son  of  the  family.  As  his  father  was 
unfortunate  in  business,  Alexander  was  early  thrown  upon  his  own 
resources  for  a  support,  and  entered  the  counting  house  of  a  mer- 
chant in  St.  Croix,  and  by  his  faithfulness  and  attention  to  busi- 
ness, so  secured  the  love  and  confidence  of  his  employer  as  to  be  in- 
trusted with  the  whole  management  of  his  affairs  during  his  absence. 
This  was  remarkable,  as  at  this  time  he  was  but  fourteen  years  of 
age.  But  the  drudgery  of  a  counting  room  did  not  suit  his  taste  ; 
his  temperament  was  too  ardent  to  submit  to  such  a  tame  mode  of 
life,  and  he  earnestly  desired  an  education,  that  he  might  become 
more  useful,  and  take  his  position  among  the  eminent  men  of  his 
day. 

After  studying  some  time  in  one  of  the  high  schools  of  the  West 
Indies,  he  concluded  to  come  to  New  York.  His  arrival  here  was 
at  a  most  exciting  and  interesting  period.  The  troubles  with  Eng- 
land had  just  commenced,  and  he  soon,  arraying  himself  on  the  side 
of  the  colonies,  identified  himself  with  all  their  interests.  His  first 
appearance  in  public  was  in  obedience  to  a  call  of  the  citizens  of 
New  York  to  address  them  on  the  subject  of  the  wrongs  of  the  col- 
onies. His  appearance  was  that  of  a  mere  boy ;  small  in  stature, 
effeminate  in  appearance,  he  seemed  like  a  child  mingling  in  the 
councils  of  grave  men  ;  his  success  was  complete,  and  the  truth  of 
the  adage  appeared  never  more  clear,  "  ?he  mind  is  the  standard  of 
the  man." 


214  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

When  the  war  broke  out,  he  immediately  buckled  on  his  sword , 
he  had  argued,  England  would  not  hear,  and  now  the  appeal  is  to 
the  sword.  He  commanded  a  company  of  artillery  in  the  battle  of 
Long  Island,  the  Raritan,  at  Trenton  and  Princeton,  and  then  he 
was  appointed  aid  to  Washington.  It  is  evidence  of  his  high  moral 
worth  that  he  was  thus  selected  by  the  father  of  his  country  as 
one  of  his  staff,  and  made  subsequently  a  bosom  friend  and  counsel- 
lor. He  was  a  man  of  the  purest  morality,  and  governed  by  the 
loftiest  principles  of  honor.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  went  into 
the  practice  of  law  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  took  an  active  part 
in  the  formation  of  the  constitution  and  organization  of  the  federal 
government. 

Party  politics  raged  at  this  time  with  great  violence,  and  a  resort 
was  often  had  to  deadly  weapons  to  settle  such  disputes ;  it  is  a  sin- 
gular circumstance,  as  connected  with  his  own  end,  that  his  eldest 
son  about  this  time  should  be  killed  in  a  duel ;  he  fell  at  Hoboken, 
and  his  murderer,  overwhelmed  with  remorse,  soon  followed  him  to 
the  grave. 

Aaron  Burr  was  one  of  the  leading  spirits  of  that  day ;  a  man 
marked  by  as  great  meanness  of  soul  as  Hamilton  by  magnanimity. 
Jealous,  vindictive  and  vile,  he  envied  the  greatness  and  fame  of 
Hamilton,  and  resolved  to  destroy  him.  Hamilton  had  prevented 
his  receiving  the  support  of  the  federal  party,  as  it  was  called,  as  a. 
candidate  for  the  office  of  governor  of  the  State  of  New  York. 
Burr  sent  him  a  challenge,  and  Hamilton,  trained  in  the  military 
school  rather  than  that  of  Christ,  had  not  the  courage  to  refuse 
it;  they  met  at  Wehawken.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning;  Hamil- 
ton rose  early ;  his  family  were  still  sleeping.  He  went  to  the  cham 
ber  where  his  little  children  were  sleeping  in  the  peace  of  inno- 
cency,  kissed  each  of  them,  stepped  softly  out  of  his  house,  crossed 
the  Hudson  in  a  boat,  met  Burr  ;  they  took  their  places  —  the  word 
was  given  —  they  fired,  and  Hamilton  fell,  mortally  wounded.  He 
was  carried  home  to  his  heart-stricken  family,  a  corpse ;  he  fell  a 
victim  to  what  is  called,  most  falsely,  "  a  code  of  honor." 


COCK   ROBIN   AND    THE    SPARKOW. 


fil5 


Cock  Robin  and  the  Sparrow, 


Did  you  ever  hear  the  story 
Of  a  wicked  little  sparrow, 

Who  killed  a  poor  cock  robin 
With  a  cruel  bow  and  arrow  ! 

How  the  fly  looked  on  with  tjnguish, 
And  with  his  "  wee  bit"  eye 

Saw  the  little  birdie  languish, 
And  at  last  lie  down  and  die. 


How  the  thrifty  Madam  Beetle 
Made  a  shroud  that  very  night. 

Plying  her  thread  and  needle 
Until  the  morning  light. 


And  the  Owl,  with  tears  of  sorrow, 

Made  little  Bobby's  grave, 
And  called  the  cruel  Sparrow 

A  wicked  little  knave. 

I  know  you  've  heard  the  story. 

How  birds  of  every  feather 
Came  to  Cock  Robin's  funeral. 

And  mourned  and  wept  together 

'Tis  sad,  you  say,  and  truly. 

For  birds  to  kill  each  other  ; 
But  would  it  not  be  sadder  far 

If  boys  should  kill  a  brother  '^ 

They  may  do  this  when  angry  — 
For  anger  equals  madness  — 

May  fight  and  kill  some  little  boy, 
Then  pass  their  days  in  sadness. 

I  hope  all  little  children 

Who  see  this  bow  and  arrow. 

Will  pray  that  they  may  never  be 
So  wicked  as  the  Sparrow. 

Cousin  Mary. 


216 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


Life  Insurance. 

There  are  many  intelligent  and  pious  individuals  who  do  not 
think  themselves  justified  in  speculating  upon  the  events  of  Provi- 
dence by  getting  their  lives  insured.  At  the  first  thought  it  does 
seem  that  there  may  be  something  wrong  about  it.  Yet  a  little 
reflection  will  generally  clear  away  all  difiiculty,  and  all  question  of 
wrong,  and  the  number  of  those  who  question  the  benefits  of  life- 
insurance  is  daily  growing  less. 

Life-insurance  is  precisely  similar  to  any  other  kind  of  insurance. 
If  a  person  builds  a  house  or  a  factory,  you  know  there  is  more  or 
less  risk  that  it  will  be  burned  up  within  a  3^ear.  If  situated  among 
other  buildings  the  risk  would  be  greater  than  if  it  stood  alone,  for 
some  of  them  may  get  on  fire  and  communicate  the  flames  to  it 
before  it  could  be  prevented.  The  person  knows  that  his  property 
—  perhaps  it  may  be  all  he  possesses  in  the  world  —  is  in  danger, 
and  it  troubles  him.  But  the  agent  of  an  insurance  company  comes 
to  him  and  says,  "  Sir,  if  you  will  pay  us  ten  dollars,  we  will  insure 
your  house  one  year.  It  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars.  Pay  us  ten 
dollars  —  [called  the  Premium] — and  if  youT  building  should  burn 
down  within  a  year  we  will  pay  you  for  it."  And  so  general  has 
this  system  of  insurance  come  into  practice,  that  none  but  an  im- 
prudent person  will  let  a  building  stand  uninsured  a  single  day. 

If  a  person  owns  a  ship,  and  has  filled  her  with  a  valuable  cargo 


LIFE    INSURANCE.  217 

that  he  wishes  to  send  to  Europe  or  to  any  other  country,  his  reflec- 
tions will  be  very  much  the  same.  He  knows  that  every  vessel  is 
liable  to  be  cast  away,  and  lost.  But  the  agent  says,  "  Pay  us  so 
much,  and  we  will  insure  your  vessel  and  cargo.  If  they  are  lost  or 
injured,  except  through  your  own  carelessness,  we  will  pay  you  for 
them."  And  very  few  vessels  now  leave  home  without  being  fully 
insured. 

So  in  life-insurance.  The  system  has  not  yet  become  so  general, 
yet  the  principles  are  precisely  similar.  A  person  sees  around  him 
a  family  wholly  dependent  upon  him  for  support  and  maintenance. 
Perhaps  he  has  children  too  young  to  take  care  of  themselves.  He 
desires  above  all  to  see  them  educated  and  brought  up  to  be  an  honor 
to  their  parents  and  friends.  This  he  knows  he  is  able  to  do  from 
the  labor  of  his  hands.  As  long  as  he  lives  he  is  pretty  certain  they 
will  not  want  a  guide  and  protector.  But  life  is  uncertain  ;  he  may 
be  cut  off  suddenly  from  among  the  living,  his  children  become 
fatherless,  and  his  wife  a  widow.  He  has  little  property.  Who 
will  then  become  the  guardian  of  his  family,  the  supporter  of  his 
young  children  ?  They  may  be  distressed  and  in  actual  want  oi 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  though  we  have  the  promise  that  the 
righteous  are  never  forsaken,  yet  no  person  would  be  justified  for  a 
moment  in  sitting  down  and  folding  his  arms  imprudently  upon  the 
strength  of  that  promise ;  for  it  presupposes  that  the  righteoas  man 
will  be  wise,  and  use  all  reasonable  endeavors  for  the  welfare  and 
support  of  those  whom  a  kind  Providence  has  placed  under  his  care. 
Well,  the  agent  of  a  life-insurance  company  says  to  him,  "Pay  me 
fifty  dollars,  and  if  during  the  next  year  you  are  removed  from  your 
family  by  death,  we  will  pay  your  wife  and  children  three  thousand 
dollars  in  cash."  Of  course  the  premium  varies  according  to  the 
age  of  the  person  being  insured,  and  in  proportion  to  the  sum  agreed 
to  be  paid  over  to  his  heirs.  It  is  true  that  money  can  never  com- 
pensate for  the  loss  of  a  near  and  dear  relative ;  yet  I  trust  I  do  not 
need  to  tell  you  of  the  many  comforts,  necessaries,  blessings  even, 
such  a  sum  of  money  would  bring  to  a  family  which  had  been  de- 
prived of  its  supporter,  and  having  no  property  beside.  My  readers 
may  think  it  is  a  kind  of  lottery.  So  it  is.  But  it  is  no  more  a  lot- 
tery than  any  other  kind  of  insurance,  nor  has  the  system  any  of 


218  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

those  objectionable  features  found  in  lotteries,  whcTe  honesty,  I  am 
afraid,  is  seldom  much  cared  about. 

There  are  two  plans  upon  which  life  as  well  as  fire  and  marine 
insurance  is  made.  The  first  is  the  joint  stock  plan,  which  is 
managed  in  this  manner.  Several  persons  unite  and  furnish  the 
necessary  capital  to  commence  with,  and  then,  at  certain  fixed  rates, 
give  policies,  or  agreements.  Once  in  six  months  or  a  year,  if  the 
company  has  made  anything,  the  profits  are  divided  among  the 
stockholders  in  proportion  to  the  amount  paid  in  at  the  beginning. 
Sometimes  the  profits  are  very  large,  and  twenty,  and  even  thirty 
per  cent.,  has  been  divided  at  one  time,  that  is,  for  every  dollar  paid 
in  there  was  a  profit  of  thirty  cents  in  six  months.  This  high  profit 
is  unusual,  but  it  happens  occasionally.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
the  company  is  unfortunate,  and  frequent  heavy  losses  occur,  no 
dividend  at  all  is  paid  to  the  stockholders  for  a  long  time,  and  it 
sometimes  happens  that  the  capital  stock  is  not  sufficient  to  pay  the 
losses,  and  the  company  fails,  the  originators  losing  all  they  put  in. 

The  other  kind  of  insurance  is  on  the  mutual  plan.  Every  one 
who  gets  insured  is  a  member  of  the  company ;  and,  after  paying 
expenses,  if  there  is  anything  left,  it  is  given  back  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  amount  paid  in  by  each  member.  The  mutual  offices 
are  differently  managed,  but  all  on  this  principle,  that  each  insurer 
shares  alike  in  the  profits  or  losses  of  the  company.  This  is  beyond 
question  the  best  plan  upon  which  to  effect  insurance,  and  the  least 
objectionable,  inasmuch  as  it  is  only  an  agreement  among  a  certain 
number  to  divide  all  losses  without  detriment  to  any  one. 


Mischievous  Theodore; 

OR,     THE     REAL     ROGUE     UNPUNISHED. 

One  cold,  frosty  morning  in  the  gloomy  month  of  November,  the 
boys  who  composed  a  village  high  school  had  crowded  into  the 
school-house  before  the  hour  for  study,  and  were  gathered  in  a  knot 
round  the  blazing  fire,  listening  to  a  story  about  some  wicked  boy 
who,  the  night  before,  had  carried  off'  the  window-shutters  from  a 
poor  widow's  shop,  and  hid  them  in  an  adjoining  field.     As  the  par- 


MISCHIEVOUS    THEODORE.  219 

ticulars  of  this  sinful  act  were  unfolded,  loud  and  boisterous  mirth 
expressed  the  delight  these  idle  fellows  felt  at  such  a  feat.  At  a  lit- 
tle distance  from  the  rest  stood  two  other  boys,  named  Oliver  and 
Theodore,  in  close  and  earnest  conversation. 

Said  Theodore,  "  It  would  be  prime  fun,  if  you  would  throw  those 
crackers  into  the  fire;  how  the  boys  would  jump  and  run!  I'd 
throw  them  in  if  they  were  mine." 

"So  would  I,"  replied  Oliver,  "if  Master  wasn't  in;  but  he'd 
know  who  did  it,  and  I  don't  see  any  fun  in  getting  a  whipping." 

"  But  only  think,"  said  Theodore,  "  how  they  w^ould  crack  and 
tly.  Just  see  what  a  grist  of  them  are  round  the  fire  !  Why,  they 
v'-puld  scatter  like  blackbirds.     Come,  Oliver,  do  put  them  in." 

"I've  a  great  mind  to,"  replied  Oliver,  hesitatingly;  "but  I'm 
afraid  of  being  found  out.  If  I  could  do  it  without  Master's  know- 
ing it,  I  would  in  a  moment ;  but,  Theodore,  I  don't  love  being 
thrashed." 

"Well,  I  always  thought  you  were  a  coward,"  said  the  wily 
Theodore ;  "  see,  it 's  almost  nine,  and  we  must  go  to  our  seats  in  a 
few  moments  —  will  you  give  the  crackers  to  anybody  else  who'll 
put  them  in  the  fire  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Oliver,  "to  be  sure  I  will.  I  want  to  see  the 
fun  as  well  as  you  do." 

Theodore  here  went  towards  the  fire,  and  touching  one  of  the 
group  on  the  shoulder,  whispered  — 

"  Aaron,  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

The  boy  followed  him  a  little  way  down  the  room. 

Said  Theodore,  "  Don't  you  want  to  see  some  sport  this  morning, 
Aaron  ? " 

"  Sport  ? "  said  Aaron ;  "  yes,  I  'm  always  ready  for  a  frolic ;  what 
is  it?" 

"  Why,"  replied  the  tempting  boy,  "  Oliver  has  got  a  bunch  of 
crackers,  and  I've  been  thinking  what  a  scattering  they  would  make 
among  the  boys  if  some  one  would  put  them  in  the  fire;  and  Oliver 
says  he'll  give  them  to  any  one  who  will  put  them  in.  Won't  you 
doit?" 

Aaron  rubbed  his  hands  for  joy,  and  his  bright  eyes  sparkled  at 


220  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

the  prospect  of  mischief;  for  he  was  a  naughty  boy,  and  loved  idle 
pranks  ;  so  turning  to  Oliver,  he  said  — 

"  Here, hand  over  your  crackers,  and  I'll  make  those  fellows  jump 
and  fly  like  scared  rats." 

Taking  the  crackers,  he  crept  softly  up  to  the  group,  and  soon 
sticceeded  in  edging  himself  close  to  the  fire. 

"Holloa!  "  exclaimed  he,  pointing  to  a  distant  window;  "what's 
that?" 

Every  head  was  turned  towards  the  window,  and  as  a  dozen  voices 
asked,  "  What's  there  ?  "  he  thrust  the  crackers  deep  into  the  fire. 

"  Don't  you  see  what's  there  ?  "  replied  he  to  their  question. 

"  No  !  "  said  the  boys. 

"  Nor  I  either,"  answered  he,  with  a  laugh. 

The  boys  were  promising  to  pay  him  for  his  joke,  when  bang  — 
bang  —  bang,  came  the  noisy  crackers  into  their  midst.  Away  they 
rushed  —  down  went  the  chairs  —  some  of  the  boys  lay  sprawling 
on  the  floor  —  some  cried  —  some  laughed  —  the  scene  was  one  of 
utter  confusion. 

The  master,  who  was  mending  his  pens  at  his  desk,  started  up. 

♦'What's  all  this  mean?  Who  put  that  in  the  fire?  To  your 
places  !  I'll  settle  for  this  scandalous  behavior !"  exclaimed  he  in  a 
breath. 

The  boys  took  their  seats,  with  many  a  nod  and  wink,  except  a 
little  fellow  named  Andrew,  who  stood  with  his  hands  on  his  face, 
and  crying  most  piteousiy  — 

♦♦  Oh  my  eye  !  oh  my  eye  !  " 

The  crackers  had  struck  him. 

After  examining  Andrew's  eye,  and  finding  it  but  slightly  hurt, 
the  teacher  put  the  question  to  the  school  — 

"  Who  put  those  crackers  in  the  fire  ?  " 

There  was  a  deep  silence,  but  no  reply.  The  teacher  con- 
tinued — 

"No  scholar  shall  quit  the  school  until  I  know  who  did  this  mis- 
chief." 

A  little  boy,  who  had  observed  Aaron's  move  nents,  stood  up  and 
•^aid  — 

"  It  was  Aaron  Hill,  sir.' 


A  child's  prayer.  221 

Aaron  was  called  up. 

"  Did  yoii  put  those  crackers  in  the  fire  ? "  inquired  the  teacher. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Aaron,  "but  Oliver  Naylor  gave  them  to  me." 

Oliver  was  then  called  up,  and  the  guilt  of  both  being  proved,  they 
were  severely  and  deservedly  punished. 

Theodore,  from  the  moment  that  Aaron  consented  to  burn  the 
crackers,  had  been  in  his  seat,  very  demurely  and  gravely  engaged 
in  looking  at  his  book,  and  by  this  cunning  and  hypocritical  behavior 
escaped  punishment,  although  he  was  the  real  instigator  of  the 
uproar. 

But  was  Theodore  happy  because  he  escaped  punishment  ?  Oh 
no;  he  felt  guilty,  and  he  knew  he  had  caused  the  punishment  of 
his  friends.  He  felt  ashamed  to  meet  them  afterwards,  for  he  knew 
he  had  injured  them  ;  and  he  has  often  said  to  the  writer,  that, 
although  grown  up  to  be  a  man,  he  had  never  loigiven  himself  for 
his  ungenerous  conduct  in  leading  his  playmates  into  trouble.  Be 
sure,  my  young  readers,  then,  that  although  you  may  escape  pun- 
ishment by  cunning  and  deception,  yet  your  consciences  will  trouble 
you.  The  best  way  is,  neither  to  do  nor  invent  mischief,  and  then 
your  conscience,  your  teachers,  and  your  friends,  will  be  at  peace 
with  you. 


From  the  Rel'.gious  Souvenir 

A  Child's  Prayer. 

BY    WILLIAM    JAMES    HAMERSLEY,  ESQ. 

Now,  at  the  silent,  evening  hour, 

Before  I  sink  in  gentle  sleep. 
Father  in  heaven  !  I  seek  thy  power, 

My  pillow  of  repose  to  keep. 

Let  no  rude  dream  disturb  my  rest. 

No  danger  seize  my  helpless  framft. 
No  secret  arrow  pierce  my  breast 

With  wan  disease,  or  fever's  flame. 

And  when,  to  gild  the  morning  sky, 
Agrain  the  sun  '♦''  hr»or>—   '    '• 


222  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

Up  to  thy  glorious  throne  on  high, 
As  incense,  may  my  thanks  ascend. 

Thanks  for  thy  goodness  and  thy  grace, 
Thanks  for  thy  teachings  from  above ; 

Thanks  that  thou  hast  a  dwelling-place 
Prepared  for  children  of  thy  love. 

But  if  to  see  another  day 

Thy  wisdom  hath  denied  to  me, 

Hear  me,  0  Father,  when  I  pray 

To  wake  in  heaven  and  live  with  Thee 


Florie. 

I  LOVE  the  prattle  of  a  child, 
So  artless,  gushing,  free  and  wild  ; 
With  half  coquettish  hoyden  air, 
They  toss  about  the  waving  hair  ; 
Confess  their  likings  and  dislikes  — 
Speak  out,  howe'er  the  subject  strikes  , 
And  wind  their  wiles  around  your  heart. 
Until  you  cannot  from  them  part. 

I  wish  you  could  our  Florie  see. 

An  artless  child  'tween  two  and  three ; 

Who  trots  about  where'er  I  go. 

And  always  asks,  "  Why  do  you  so?" 

She  speaks  quite  plain,  and  talks  so  fast. 

She  is  among  the  magpies  classed. 

Never  a  fretful  word  or  tone, 

Hath  little  Florie  ever  shown  ; 

But  judgment  like  a  mind  matured, 

As  though  to  crosses  oft  enured. 

Perchance  she  doth  an  apple  spy. 
For  her  little  hand  to  reach,  too  high  ; 
The  quick  inquiry,  "  Give  it  me?" 
I  answer,  "  Busy,  don't  you  see  !" 


FLORIE.  223 


"  In  a  min  ite  —  then  you  will  ;** 
Her  pleading  lip  entreats,  until, 
Unable  longer  to  withstand, 
I  place  it  in  her  little  hand  ; 
And  then,  with  basket  on  her  arm, 
The  apple,  snug,  secured  from  harm. 
She  takes  a  nib  and  drops  it  in. 
Then  bends  her  head  to  look  within  , 
And  eats  and  talks,  and  talks  and  eata 
And  pit-a-pats  her  little  feet, 
Forever  round  and  round  the  house, 
As  brisk  and  busy  as  a  mouse  ; 
If  asked  to  do  a  thing  she  spurns, 
Each  shoulder  gives  a  shrug  by  turns  ; 
And  if  you  urge,  she  will  not  grant, — 
"  Ma  says  I  mustn't,  and  I  can't !" 

And  when  the  evening  draweth  near, 

And  one  by  one  the  lights  appear. 

She  lays  her  liitle  frock  aside. 

And  wrapped  in  night-gown,  large  and  wide. 

Her  chattering  tongue  begins  to  tease  : 

"  Tell  me  a  story  —  will  you,  please?" 

*'  What  shall  it  be  about,  my  pet  1 

About  the  mouse  that  gnawed  the  net?" 

"  No,  no,  tell  me  about  a  dog, 

Or  else  about  a  great  big  frog !" 

When  those  are  told,  she  asks  for  more) 

And  half  exhausts  my  little  store. 

"  Tell  me  about  Red-Riding-Hood  ?" 

And  I  go  on  to  please  her  mood  ; 

Until  her  little  sparkling  eyes  ' 

Grow  small  and  smaller  still  in  size  ; 

Then  she  repeats  her  evening  prayer, 

And  thanks  her  Maker  for  his  care. 

Asks  him  to  bless  her  dear  mamma, 

And  all  her  friends  where'er  they  are 

To  please  to  take  the  kindest  care. 

And  make  him  good  —  of  brother  Clare 

And  then  she  bids  a  last  good  night, 

And  shuts  her  eyes  till  morning  light. 


224 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


Song  of  the  Discontented  Cook. 

Oh,  who  would  wish  to  be  a  cook, 

To  live  in  such  a  broil  ? 
With  all  one's  pains,  to  cook  one's  brains. 

And  lead  a  life  of  toil  ? 
*T  is.  Stir  the  pudding,  Peggy, 

And  give  those  ducks  a  turn ; 
.     Be  quick,  be  quick,  you  lazy  jade  ! 

Else  one  or  both  will  burn. 


DISCOVERY    OF    GLASS.  225 

An  hour  before  the  rising  sun 

I  'm  forced  to  leave  my  bed, 
To  make  the  fires,  and  fry  the  cakes, 

And  get  the  table  spread. 
'Tis,  Stir  the  pudding,  Peggy, 

And  give  those  ducks  a  turn  ; 
Be  quick,  be  quick,  you  lazy  jade  ! 

Else  one  or  both  will  burn. 

The  breakfast 's  scarely  over. 

And  all  things  set  to  rights. 
Before  the  savory  haunch,  or  fowl, 

My  skill  and  care  invites. 
'T  is,  Stir  the  pudding,  Peggy, 

And  give  those  ducks  a  turn  ; 
Be  quick,  be  quick,  you  lazy  jade ! 

Else  one  or  both  will  bum. 

And  here  I  stand  before  the  fire, 

And  turn  them  round  and  roun-*  ; 
And  keep  the  kettle  boiling  — 

I  hate  their  very  sound  ! 
'T  is,  Stir  the  pudding,  Peggy, 

And  give  those  ducks  a  turn  ; 
Be  quick,  be  quick,  you  lazy  jade  f 

Else  one  or  both  will  burn. 

And  long  before  the  day  is  spent, 

I  'm  all  in  such  a  toast. 
You  scarce  could  tell  which  's  done  the  most. 

Myself,  or  what  I  roast ! 
'T  is.  Stir  the  pudding,  Peggy, 

And  give  those  ducks  a  turn  ; 
Be  quick,  be  quick,  you  lazy  jade ! 

Else  one  or  both  will  burn. 


Discovery  of  Glass. 

One  of  the  greatest  discoveries  was  that  of  glass.     It  was  known 
anciently,  but  did  not  come  into  general  use  till  within  about  threu 
centuries.     It  was  discovered  by  accident,  by  some  merchants  men- 
15 


226  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

tionea  by  Pliny,  who  were  driven  by  a  storm  to  seek  shelter  on  the 
coast  of  Syria. 

They  landed,  and  made  a  fire  to  keep  off  the  wild  beasts.  In  the 
morning,  one  of  them  found  a  lump  of  half-transparent  matter,  which 
glittered  like  precious  stones.  Some,  who  heard  of  it,  made  inquiry 
as  to  what  it  was,  and  how  it  was  made.  The  plants  that  were 
burned  were  called  Kall  They  burnt  some  of  it,  but  it  was  of  no 
use  till  some  sand  was  mixed  with  it.  They  found  that  thus  they 
made  glass.  The  inhabitants  of  Sidon,  a  neighboring  city,  were 
very  eager  in  pursuing  this  discovery,  and  established  a  manufactory 
which  suppled  the  neighboring  countries.  The  glass  thus  made 
was  of  course  not  very  elegant,  as  it  was  made  of  such  coarse  mate- 
rials. Sand  and  kali,  if  melted  together,  will  make  glass ;  but  other 
things  must  be  added  to  make  it  good,  as  manganese,  lead  and  nitre. 
The  best  glass  is  made  of  flint  pulverized,  and  alkali;  but  the  mate- 
rial is  too  expensive  to  be  in  common  use. 

The  Venetians  were  preeminent  in  making  glass,  for  purity  and 
for  size.  Till  the  thirteenth  century,  they  v/oto  the  only  people  who 
made  large  mirrors.  Consequently  all  I^urope  was  obliged  to  buy  it 
of  them,  —  not  only  mirrors,  but  drinking  vessels,  for  use  as  well  as 
elegance. 

This  convenience  was  first  brought  to  England  in  674,  when  the 
monastery  of  Weremouth  was  glazed.  Fine  flint  glass  was  made  in 
1557.     It  is  now  made  in  the  United  States. 

Glass  for  windows  was  for  a  long  time  made  of  a  greeni&h  color, 
but  a  Londoner  made  it  clear.  He  made  his  fortune  ;  and  to  show 
it  was  an  important  secret,  he  was  offered  more  than  seventeen 
thousand  dollars  for  it;  but  he  wanted  twenty,  and  as  no  one  gave  it, 
the  secret  died  with  him.  Paste  is  glass  colored  like  precious  stones. 
It  was  once  in  fashion,  but  now  is  not.  The  French,  however,  are 
fond  of  it. 


-.*r;-=:;rT:^ 


AUTUMN. 


227 


Autumn, 

Yes  !  autumn  has  come  at  last.  The  cool,  still  nights,  the  ripe 
and  ripening  fruit,  the  variegated  colors  upon  the  forest  trees,  and, 
perhaps  more  than  all,  the  little  piece  of  daylight  nipped  ofT  from 
both  ends  of  every  day,  remind  us  that  the  fall  of  the  year,  — named 
so  undoubtedly  because  it  is  the  season  when  the  leaves  fall,  —  has 
come  at  last.  Since  I  commenced  my  monthly  visits  to  you  I  have 
seen  your  sleds  and  your  warm  mittens  thrown  aside,  I  have  seen 


228  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

lour  balls  ami  skipping-ropes  put  away,  as  the  hot  summer  day:: 
came  on ;  and  now  that  these  have  vanished,  and  given  place  to 
autumn,  your  amusements  are  again  changed,  and  s  jited  to  the  cool 
bracing  weather  which  every  rolling  season  brings  us.  It  is  true, 
the  declining  year,  the  dead  and  dying  flowers,  and  the  falling  leaves, 
suggest,  particularly  to  those  advanced  in  life,  the  end  of  life  wh.'jch 
soon  will  overtake  us  all ;  yet  if  they  have  lived  good  and  virtuous 
lives  it  will  not  come  too  soon.  Some  people  seem  to  think  that 
our  youthful  days  are  our  happiest,  and  that  grown-up  people 
are  always  burdened  with  cares,  and  experience  little  or  no  happi- 
ness. "  Ah,"  says  Mr.  Croaker,  "  these  boys  and  girls  are  very 
happy  71010,  but  wait  till  they  are  grown-up  men  and  women,  and  1 
guess  they  will  know  what  trouble  is."  Now,  this  is  totally  wrong. 
I  believe,  if  children  are  wise  and  good,  and  strive  every  day  to  be 
better,  that  their  re^J  enjoyments  will  increase  as  they  go  along,  and 
that  the  evening  of  their  lives  will  be  the  happiest  of.  all.  Young 
people  generally  do  not  realize  what  sin  is,  and  hence  their  enjoy- 
ments are  in  a  measure  innocent.  But  if,  after  they  know  what  a 
wrong  action  is,  they  love  it,  regardless  of  the  laws  of  God,  I  do  not 
wonder  that  they  feel  guilty  and  unhappy,  and  have  bad  dreams. 
Try  Mark  Forrester's  advice,  all  you  boys  and  girls,  who  are  look- 
ing for  a  long  succession  of  stormy  days  by  and  by.  If  what  he 
says  don't  prove  true,  why  you  may  say  he  is  a  story  teller  !  And 
when  you  hear  a  person  complaining  of  the  misery  of  this  world,  and 
?peaking  just  as  though  we  had  been  created  to  be  made  wretched, 
run  with  all  your  might,  for  the  fellow,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
would  pick  your  pocket  if  he  could  get  a  chance  !  I  have  no  doubt 
ihat  Mr.  Croaker  was  a  horse  thief. 

Look  abroad  on  yonder  hill,  and  see  what  a  variety  of  colors  there 
are  on  the  trees.  Red,  green,  yellow,  white,  orange,  nearly  every 
hue  you  can  imagine.  And  what  a  beautiful  head-dress  they  make  ! 
[t  is  related  that  the  lady  of  the  American  minister  to  England  once 
attended  a  party  given  by  Queen  Victoria  with  a  wreath  of  autumn 
leaves  around  her  head ;  and  that  the  persons  present  could  not  be 
made  to  believe  that  they  were  of  the  natural  coiors.  "  AVhy,' 
said  the  queen,  "what  a  magnificent  sight  it  must  be  to  see  your 
forests,  if  they  are  as  beautifully  colored  as  your  head-dress  ! "    True 


LOUIS    PHILIPPE.  231 

myself  once,  and  have  seen  one  or  two  boys,  who  were  less  lucky, 
g-et  a  swim,  on  similar  occasions.  However,  no  harm  was  done, 
only  a  good  deal  of  sport  was  created  among  their  schocjol-fellows. 


^  J-^-^^c^-' 


Louis  Philippe, 


The  late  King  of  the  French,  and  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
of  the  world,  was  born  in  Paris,  on  the  sixth  day  of  October,  m  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  seventy-three. 
He  was  the  eldest  son  of  Philippe  Joseph,  Duke  of  Orleans. 

So  far  as  ancestry  could  avail — and  in  his  case  it  availed  much  — 
he  was  a  prince  by  French  descent,  and  had  direct  relationship  to 
the  line  of  Stuart,  or  Queen  Victoria's  family.  While  a  child  he 
was  entitled  Duke  of  Valois.  At  the  age  of  twelve  his  father  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title  of  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the  boy  became  the 
Duke  of  Chartres,  taking  the  place  vacated  by  his  father,  as  he  was 
always  entitled  to  do. 

Louis  Philippe,  at  an  early  age,  was  put  under  the  instruction  and 
government  of  the  Countess  de  Genlis,  a  lady  eminently  qualified, 
by  extensive  learning,  natural  genius,  and  a  happy  disposition,  to 
form  the  mind  and  habit  of  a  prince.  She  taught  him  to  love  God 
and  his  works,  and  to  love  man.  She  not  only  taught  him  the 
common  branches  of  polite  learning,  but  to  speak  with  ease  the 
Italian,  German,  and  English  languages,  the  latter  of  which  were 
accomplishments  soon  called  into  requisition. 

She  had  him  instructed  in  gardening,  turning,  basket-making, 


232 


PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 


carpentry,  and  weaving  —  a  fine  lot  of  trades  for  a  prince!  in  ad- 
dition to  all  this,  he  was  a  doctor ;  he  studied  botany  and  medicine 
nnder  the  direction  of  a  medical  gentleman. 


It  was  the  intention  of  the  countess  to  make  her  charge  a  good, 
intelligent,  and  hardy  man,  or  king,  if  perchance  he  might  be  a 
ruler.  How  she  prepared  him  for  hardships  and  trying  emergencies, 
we  may  learn  from  one  of  her  remarks,  after  political  influences 
had  driven  him  from  France,  a  mere  youth,  and  almost  penniless. 
She  says,  "How  often,  since  his  misfortunes,  have  I  applauded  my- 
self for  the  education  I  had  given  him ;  for  having  taugnt  him  the 


LOUIS    PHILIPPE.  233 

principal  modern  languages ;  for  having  accustomed  him  to  wait  on 
himself;  to  despise  all  sorts  of  effeminacy;  to  sleep  habitually  on  a 
wooden  bed,  with  no  covering  but  a  mat ;  to  expose  himself  to  heat, 
cold,  and  rain ;  to  accustom  himself  to  fatigue,  by  daily  and  violent 
exercise,  and  by  walking  ten  or  fifteen  miles  with  leaden  soles  to 
his  shoes ;  and,  finally,  for  having  given  him  the  taste  and  habit  for 
travelling.  He  had  lost  all  he  had  inherited  from  birth  and  fortune  — 
nothing  remained  but  what  he  had  received  from  nature  and  me." 

At  an  early  age,  the  Countess  de  Genlis  observed  of  his  general 
character,  —  "Possessing  none  of  the  frivolities  of  the  age,  he  dis- 
dains the  puerilities  which  occupy  the  thoughts  of  so  many  yo\ng 
men  of  rank,  such  as  fashions,  dress,  trinkets,  follies  of  all  kinds, 
and  the  desire  for  novelties.  He  has  no  passion  for  money ;  he  is 
disinterested,  despises  glare,  and  is  consequently  truly  noble."  And 
I  will  add,  there  are  various  incidents  on  record  which  fully  corrob- 
orate this  statement,  but  I  have  not  room  for  their  record  here. 

He  had  been  for  some  years  an  honorary  colonel,  when,  at  the 
age  of  a  little  more  than  seventeen,  he  assumed  the  command  of 
his  regiment.  In  this  command  he  manifested  much  prudence  and 
kindness. 

In  the  French  revolution  of  1793,  the  father  of  Louis  Philippe 
was  beheaded.  Previous  to  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
Louis  Philippe  was  summoned  before  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety.  Knowing  this  to  be  nearly  equivalent  to  condemnation,  he 
immediately  fled ;  was  hotly  pursued,  but  escaped  into  the  Belgian 
Netherlands.  He  wandered  for  months,  a  youth  among  strangeis, 
and  at  last  nearly  penniless.  Sometimes  he  received  kind  treat- 
ment, and  sometimes  very  unkind  usage.  Finally,  being  under  the 
necessity  of  employment  for  support,  he  procured  the  situation  of  a 
i^receptor,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Chabaud-Latour.  Here  he 
was  very  successful.  And  here  for  the  first  time  he  heard  of  the 
dreadful  fate  of  his  father.  Political  movements  soon  made  it 
prudent  for  him  again  to  become  a  wanderer.  And  after  a  few 
months,  at  the  request  of  his  mother,  he  visited  the  United  States, 
and  travelled  extensively,  in  connection  with  his  two  younger 
brothers. 

I  should  be  happy  to  give  my  readers  some  account  of  his  wan- 

/ 


234  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

derings  and  hardships  here,  but  shall  not  h5.7e  room.  Nor  shall  i 
have  room  to  detail  the  account  of  his  return  to  Europe,  his  fortune 
restored,  his  marriage  and  occupation,  till,  in  1830,  in  the  next  revo- 
lution in  France,  after  he  had  been  driven  from  her,  he  was  made 
king,  under  the  style  and  title  of  Louis  Philippe  I.,  King  of  the 
French. 

For  the  last  seventeen  years,  previous  to  the  late  revolution,  he 
has  been  crowned  with  riches  and  honor.  He  had  been  esteemed 
one  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  monarchs ;  especially  had  he  distin- 
guished himself  as  the  friend  and  keeper  of  peace.  It  has  been 
thought,  however,  by  many,  that  he  has  not  fully  sustained  his  early- 
reputation  for  disinterested  benevolence  and  liberal  principles. 

That  he  was  lately  obliged  to  abdicate  his  crown,  and  with  hi« 
family  to  quit  his  palace  and  flee  his  country,  my  readers  are  well 
aware.     How  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! 


The  Rattle-Snake. 


Look  out  for  snakes !  They  have  had  a  bad  reputation  among 
men,  from  the  temptation  of  mother  Eve  to  the  present  day. 
Whether  it  was  really  a  serpent,  according  to  our  understanding  of 
the  term,  which  was  the  prompter  to  her  transgression,  is  undeter- 
mined. Many  think  it  was ;  but  whether  it  was  or  not,  there  is  an 
enmity  between  him  and  man,  and  when  man  has  the  power  he 
bruises  the  serpent's  head. 

I  could  bring  facts  to  show  that  the  serpent  has  no  friendship  for 
man.  One  of  the  most  glaring  instances  of  his  depravity  is  the 
account  I  used  to  read,  when  a,  boy,  of  a  serpent  which  was  found 
by  a  farmer,  nearly  frozen  and  almost  dead.  The  farmer  took  him 
to  his  house,  and  warmed  him  and  fed  him;  and  when  the  serpent 
had  become  comfortable  and  animated,  the  farmer  put  him  in  his 
bosom.     But  the  wretch  stung  his  benefactor. 

There  are  many  sizes  and  descriptions  of  makes,  from  the  litlle 
one  in  the  grasp  of  the  harvest  mouse,  to  the  sea  serpent,  which 
occasionally  lies  off  Nahant,  for  the  gratification  of  visitors,  or  per- 
haps more  tru.y  for  the  benefit  of  the  steamboat  company. 


IMPORTANT    QUESTIONS    A.ND    ANSWERS. 


235 


This  is  a  rattle-snake,  and  a  dang-erous  fellow  he  is  too ;  danger- 
ous not  because  he  is  naturally  quarrelsome,  but  because  he  bites 
in  self-defence,  and  his  bite  is  fatal.  When 
any  one  approaches  him,  he  tells  them  as 
well  as  he  can  with  his  rattle  to  "  Look  out 
for  snakes;"  if  they  discover  him  in  sea- 
son, and  get  out  of  the  way,  well ;  but  if 
they  come  too  near,  he  gives  a  sudden 
spring  and  fixes 
his  deadly  fangs 
upon  them. 

People  in  vi- 
cinities where  >v^; 
these  reptiles 
nre  found  have 
to  be  very  care- 
ful not  to  come 

in  contact  with  them.-  Miles  Hawthorne  tells  me  that  in  places 
where  he  has  found  them  numerous,  he  has  procured  white  ash 
boughs  and  sticks  as  a  defence  against  them.  He  says  they  dread 
the  ash  as  men  do  poison,  and  that  he  has  seen  them  run  over  living 
coals  of  fire,  rather  than  go  over  ash  sticks,  when  they  had  leen 
encompassed  by  a  circle  made  one  half  of  each. 


Important  Questions  and  Answers- 

Who  was  the  first  President  of  the  United  States?  George 
Washington. 

Who  is  the  present  ?     Franklin  Pierce. 

Who  will  be  the  next?  Give  it  up ?  So  do  I.  Let  us  try  some- 
thing else. 

What  is  the  great  key  to  the  treasures  of  the  English  language  ? 
Webster's  Dictionary. 

Right.  Webster's  Dictionary  unr.bridged  is  an  invaluable  treas- 
ure. It  is  as  large  as  a  common  sized  quarto  Bible,  with  finer 
print.     Its  definition  of  words  is  ''ery  exact,  very  extensive,  and 


236  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

very  happily  expressed.  From  this  teacher  you  need  not  turn 
away  in  doubt.  It  contains  a  key  by  which  you  may  easily  learn 
the  pronunciation  of  words. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  matter  contained  in  dictionaries,  it  has 
extensive  pronouncing  vocabularies  of  Scripture,  Geographical  and 
Classical  names.  I  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  it  the  best  dic- 
tionary of  the  English  language  which  I  have  ever  seen.  And  I 
had  almost  said,  that  I  have  no  desire  for  a  better  one. 


Doves. 

The  Dove  or  Pigeon  tribe  is  divided  into  numerous  families,  and 
is  distinguished  by  a  great  variety  of  shades  and  gradations.  Their 
form  is  elegant,  their  plumage  beautiful,  and  their  manners  are  gen- 
tle and  fascinating.  They  are  easily  domesticated,  and  are  great 
favorites  with  man.  They  are  very  social  beings,  and  have  gen- 
erally been  held  as  emblematic  of  peace  and  innocence.  It  may  be 
hat  the  olive  branch  is  made  the  emblem  of  peace,  because  the  dove 
brought  it  to  Noah  in  the  ark. 

This  is  May  day.  The  little  folks  have  all  gone  after  flowers, 
and  some  very  nice  ones  they  have  found  too.  1  saw  one  of  the 
queens  with  her  train  pass  my  office,  with  a  crown  and  sceptre, 
beautifully  decked  with  flowers.  But  Mistress  Farmer  is  at  home. 
Just  now  she  is  looking  after  the  feathered  tribe.  The  biddies  are 
helping  themselves,  as  fast  as  they  can,  while  Mr.  Chanticleer  says, 
"  Give  us  some  more."  You  see  one  little  fellow  at  her  feet,  look- 
ing up  with  dove's  eyes,  as  much  as  to  say,  1  thank  you,  ma'am. 
And  there  is  little  pet  upon  her  shoulder,  illustrating  some  tale  of 
confidence  and  love. 

The  pigeon  is  very  swift  upon  the  wing.  They  were  frequently 
trained  to  be  carriers  of  news,  before  men  became  masters  of  steam 
and  electricity.  They  were  trained  in  this  way:  —  A  young  one, 
well  fledged,  would  be  taken  in  a  basket  half  a  mile  or  so  from 
home,  and  then  let  loose.  It  would  go  immediately  home.  Then 
they  would  carry  it  a  greater  distance,  till  finally  they  could  trust  it 
on  n  journey  of  on    or  two  hundred  miles 


DO  VES. 


237 


Persons  wishing  to  obtain  very  important  news  "  in  advance  of 
the  mail,*'  would  send  one  of  these  pigeons  away  from  home,  in 


charge  of  a  keeper,  of  course.  At  the  desired  time,  after  having 
kept  it  in  a  dark  room,  and  without  food,  six  or  eight  hours,  the 
keeper  would  affix  to  it  his  message,  and  then  let  it  loose.     When 


238  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

first  let  loose,  the  pigeon  would  rise  high,  in  the  air,  making  a  spiral 
flight  of  observation.  As  soon  as  it  gained  sight  of  a  known  object 
it  would  go  off  in  a  direct  line  to  the  point.  It  will  fly  thirty  mile^* 
an  hour.  One  of  them  once  took  a  message  from  London  to  Ant" 
werp,  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles,  in  six  hours. 

These  pigeons  are  used  to  some  extent  at  present,  but  as  I  have 
already  intimated,  the  lightning  has  become  a  powerful  competitor, 
and  will  probably  prove  a  successful  one.  It  clears  the  track  much 
quicker  than  the  dove,  but  its  path  is  not  so  easily  kept  in  order. 


Ml  young  readers  will  take  special  interest  in  the  following 
touching  lines,  when  they  learn  that  Mr.  Adams  wrote  them  the  day 
preceding  his  fatal  attack  of  illness,  to  accompany  his  autograph 
eignature,  which  had  been  requested  by  a  young  lady. 

WRITTEN    FOR   BUSS    C.    L.    EDWARDS,   OF    MASSACHUSETTS,   THE   DAT 
PRECEDING   HIS    DEATH. 


John  Quincy  Adams, 

Qui?icy,  Massachusetss. 


In  days  of  yore,  the  poet's  pen 
From  wing  of  bird  was  plundered, 

Perhaps  of  goose,  but,  now  and  then. 
From  Jove's  own  Eagle  sundered. 

But,  now,  metallic  pens  disclose 
Alone  the  poet's  numbers  ; 

In  iron  inspiration  glows, 
^  Or  with  the  minstrel  slumbers. 

Fair  damsel !  could  my  pen  impart, 

In  pn.se  or  lofty  rhyme, 
Th'e  pure  emotions  of  my  heart. 

To  speed  the  flight  of  time  ; 
What  metal  from  the  womb  of  earth 

Could  worth  intrinsic  bear, 
To  Stamp  with  correspondinQ;  worth 

The  blessings  thou  shouldst  sharo  ? 


MONET   AT   INTEREST, 


289 


Money  at    Interest. 

I  HAD  some  money  in  my  purse, 
Kept  there  almost  forever, 

Waiting  to  buy  a  pair  of  skates. 
To  skate  upon  the  riA'er. 


240  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

But  yesterday,  dear  grandpapa, 

I  saw  a  painful  sight ; 
It  drew  the  money  from  my  puree, 

And  left  it  empty,  quite. 

A  ragged  boy  led  by  the  hand 

A  little  sister  sweet, 
Who  crept  along  the  frozen  sand, 

With  half  uncovered  feet. 

My  hand  sought  out  the  silver  prize. 
That  in  my  pocket  lay — 

When  in  my  ear  I  heard  a  voice, 
That  softly  seemed  to  say, 

"  Think  of  the  skates,  the  shining  skates ! 

Think  of  the  glorious  ice ! 
If  you  relieve  the  suffering  child, 

Pleasure  must  pay  the  price." 

"  Pleasure  a  greater  price  must  pay," 

Another  voice  replied, 
"  If  suffered  thus  to  close  the  hand, 

That  pity  opens  wide." 

Out  came  the  money,  grandpapa ; 

How  could  I  then  refuse  ? 
And  to  the  smiling  boy  I  said, 

"  Buy  '  sis '  a  pair  of  shoes." 

You  should  have  seen  the  little  girl. 
Her  laughing  eyes  of  blue. 

As,  showering  kisses  from  her  hand, 
She  sang — *'  New  shoe !  new  shoe !  " 

*  God  bless  the  gifl,"  said  grandpapa, 

^  And  add  to  mercy's  store — 
lie  lendeth  to  the  Lord,  my  son, 
Who  giveth  to  the  poor." 


HENRY  CLAY. 


241 


Hon.  Henry  Clay. 

This  distinguished  gentleman  was,  to  a  great  extent,  a  self-made 
man.  It  is  said  that  when  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  about  to  be- 
come the  son-in-law  of  the  Austrian  monarch,  that  monarch  having 
a  great  desire  of  proving  him  of  royal  descent,  made  diligent  search 
to  establish  the  fact.  But  Napoleon,  becoming  acquainted  with  his 
intention,  immediately  visited  him  and  exclaimed,  '*  Stop,  stop,  sire  ' 
I  alone  am  the  author  of  my  fortune,  and  desire  it  to  be  so  understood. 
Neither  royal  descent  nor  royalty  has  contributed  anything  to  ita 
16 


242  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

achievement ;  and  though  I  might  legitimately  clai  n  both,  would  not 
mention  either."  I  have  never  heard  of  royal  descent  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Clay,  and  I  hope  he  has  enough  of  the  true  republican  in  his 
constitution  to  feel  that  that  is  a  matter  of  indifference. 

Henry  Clay  was  born  in  A^rginia,  on  the  12th  of  April,  1777.  His 
father  was  a  Baptist  minister,  and  preached,  at  the  time  of  Henry's 
birth,  in  Hanover  county,  familiarly  called  "  The  Slashes." 

Hie  father  died  when  he  was  about  five  years  of  age.  His  early 
means  of  education  were  poor.  The  straitened  circumstances  in 
which  the  family  was  left  made  it  necessary  for  him,  in  common 
with  his  brothers,  to  spend  much  time  in  manual  employments.  He 
was  no  stranger  to  farming  utejisils ;  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  he 
earned  his  daily  bread.  It  was  from  his  frequent  visits  to  a  grist- 
mill on  the  Panumkey  river,  —  where  he  went  seated  on  a  bag  of 
grain  thrown  across  his  horse,  without  a  rope,  bridle  or  saddle, — 
that  he  gained  the  title  of"  Mill  Boy  of  the  Slashes." 

He  worked  in  this  way  till  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  enjoying,  as 
I  before  intimated,  but  meagre  means  of  education.  In  1792,  he  was 
placed  in  the  office  of  the  clerk  of  the  High  Court  of  Chancery,  where 
he  found  employment  congenial'  to  his  taste,  and  ample  means  of 
mental  culture.  In  this  and  other  offices  he  "  paid  his  way  "  by 
diligent  effort,  and  acquired  a  knowledge  of  law,  so  that,  in  the  year 
1797,  he  was  licensed  to  practise  law.  Boys,  remember  this  has 
been  done  ;  and  though  you  are  poor  and  without  friends,  just  think 
that  it  or  its  equivalent  may  be  done  again. 

Mr.  Clay  once  said,  in  reference  to  his  commencement  in  business, 
"  I  waf  without  patrons,  without  friends,  and  destitute  of  the  means 
of  paying  my  weekly  board.  I  remember  how  comfortable  I  thought 
I  should  be,  if  I  could  make  £100  Virginia  money,  per  annum,  and 
with  what  delight  I  received  the  first  fifteen  shilling  fee.  My  hopes 
were  more  than  realized.  I  immediately  rushed  into  a  lucrative 
practice." 

And  with  his  lucrative  practice  came  wealth,  and  honor,  and  pow- 
er. He  has  been  one  of  the  great  men  of  this  nation.  He  has  held 
many  offices  of  high  distinction,  and  acquitted  himself  with  ability 
and  honor. 


ANEMor^ES    Ar<D    VIOLETS. 


243 


Anemones  and  Violets. 

Anemones  and  violets, 

Children  of  the  spring ! 
Thank  you  for  the  pleasant  flowers- 

Nature's  offering ! 


544  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Violets,  anemones, 
Bursting  into  birth ; 

Nature's  painted  playthings  — 
The  pretty  things  of  earth  I 

Blooming  in  the  woodlands, 
Underneath  the  trees ; 

Little  meek-eyed  violets. 
Pale  anemones ! 

Clustering  by  the  brookside, 
Clustering  in  the  glen, 

Nature  hides  her  dearest  flowers, 
Far  away  from  men  ; 

Robes  herself  in  velvet. 
Jewelled  like  an  earl's ; 

Violets  —  anemones  — 
Amethysts  and  pearls. 


Gold   Mines. 

Gold  is  one  of  the  purest  of  all  metals,  and  is  not  liable  to  perish 
by  rust  or  by  the  action  of  fire.  It  is  of  a  very  bright  yellow  color, 
easily  bent,  and  can  be  hammered  so  thin  that  a  single  grain  can  be 
made  to  cover  more  than  fifty  square  inches,  and  then  divided  into 
five  hundred  thousand  parts,  each  of  which  can  be  seen  with  the 
naked  eye. 

Gold  is  found  in  primitive  mountains,  usually  in  slender  veins^ 
often  penetrating  the  hardest  rock.  But  it  is  more  commonly  ob- 
tained in  very  small  grains  from  the  alluvial  soil  which  forms  the 
beds  of  rivers,  or  the  sides  of  channels,  which  have  been  created  by 
floods  and  are  frequently  covered  with  water.  Many  have  supposed 
that  these  fragments  are  washed  down  from  the  adjoining  mountains , 
and  persons  have  frequently  endeavored  to  trace  them  up  to  theii 
supposed  original  beds,  where  they  hoped  *o  find  large  quantities  of 
gold,  and  become  rich  at  once,  ^^ut  in  all  cases  the  miners  have 
been  disappointed ;  for  where  the  sands  of  the  rivers  f iTord  golden 


GOLD    MINES. 


245 


^ins,  the  particles  have  become  scarcer  as  the  searchers  approached 
the  rocks  from  which  the  streams  have  issued.  The  general  belief 
imong  geologists  now  is  that  the  gold  is  thrown  up  from  the  bowels 
of  the  earth  by  volcanoes,  and  that  the  rivers  are  constantly  carrying 
the  loose  and  light  soil  towards  the  sea,  while  the  heavy  grains  of 
rold  sink  to  the  bottom  and  remain  there. 

Gold  has  been  found  in  many  European  countries,  and  in  Asia 
and  Africa,  but  in  moderate  quantities.  At  the  present  time,  Amer- 
ica takes  the  lead  in  furnishing  mankind  with  the  precious  metal. 
Mexico  is  rich  in  gold  mines,  the  principal  of  which  are  situated 
inland  from  the  sea,  in  the  provinces  of  Zacatecas,  New  Biscay,  and 
Mexico  proper.  But  the  veins  are  generally  small,  and  the  produce 
uncertain.  It  has  been  observed  that  gold  mines  have  generally 
ruined  those  who  have  engaged  in  them;  although  the  purifying  of 
the  ore  is  not  so  expensive  as  that  of  other  metals.  This  happens 
because  the  veins  are  very  apt  to  fail.  For  some  distance,  the  vein 
will  be  full  and  rich,  and  then  it  is  suddenly  lost.  When,  indeed,  a 
vein  can  be  traced  to  its  end,  the  miners  frequently  find  what  is 
called  the  picrse  of  the  mine,  or  such  a  considerable  quantity  of  gold 
as  at  once  makes  the  fortune  of  the  adventurer. 

The  gold  in  Mexico,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  is  found  in 
two  different  states ;  either  within  the  rock,  in  veins,  or  scattered 
in  small  particles  in  the  sands  of  rivers.  It  is  sometimes  found  in 
lumps,  or  masses,  which  are  called  native  gold  ;  but  more  frequently 
it  exists  in  a  mineralized  state,  mingled  with  other  substances,  as 
earth,  stone,  sulphur,  &c.  In  this  state  it  would  not  be  recognized 
to  be  gold  by  an  inexperienced  person ;  for  it  is  red,  white,  or  black, 
as  it  may  happen,  and  shows  none  of  its  brilliancy  or  metallic  char- 
acter. 

When  gold  is  found  in  this  state  of  mixture,  the  ore  is  broken  in 
pieces,  in  a  mill,  consisting  of  an  upright  circular  stone,  which  turns 
on  its  axis,  while  it  traverses  a  circular  trough,  such  as  is  employed 
in  grinding  bark  in  England.  When  the  ore  is  thus  broken,  some 
of  the  refuse  is  easily  separated  from  it.  To  the  remaining  mass  a 
considerable  quantity  of  quicksilver  is  added,  which,  having  a  strong 
attraction  for  gold,  fastens  upon  every  particle  of  it,  and  draws  it 
away  from  wh  ,tever  it  had  been  attached  to. 


246  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

When  the  gold  is  thus  amalgamated  with  the  quicksilver,  a  fulJ 
stream  of  water  is  let  into  the  vessel,  which  carries  with  it  the 
lighter  matters,  earth,  &c.,  and  leaves  at  the  bottom  the  heavy  metal: 
the  amalgam,  thus  cleansed,  is  squeezed  in  a  cloth ;  and  much  of 
the  quicksilver  being  forced  out,  the  remainder  is  driven  off  by  fire, 
which  leaves  the  gold  pure. 

When  the  miners  suspect  gold  to  be  in  the  bed  of  a  river,  they 
turn  the  stream  away  from  those  spots  in  which  they  conceive  it 
may  lie.  Then  they  loosen  the  bottom  of  the  river,  by  digging; 
and  in  this  loosened  state  the  soil  is  easily  washed  off  by  the  current, 
which  is  let  in  suddenly  for  the  purpose ;  and  a  stiff  earth  remains, 
in  which  the  gold  is  concealed.  The  waters  are  again  turned  off, 
and  the  workmen  dig  up  this  earth,  which  they  carry  away  to  the 
lavaderos,  or  washing  places.  Here  it  is  kept  continually  stirred 
with  iron  hooks  and  rakes,  while  water,  rushing  in,  carries  away 
the  earthy  matter ;  and  the  gold,  from  its  weight,  falls  to  the  bottom. 
Still  it  is  mingled  with  a  black  heavy  sand,  which  hides  the  gold, 
unless  there  be  a  few  lumps  larger  than  the  general  size ;  and,  to 
get  rid  of  this  sand,  it  is  put  in  successive  portions  into  a  shallow 
dish,  deepest  in  the  middle,  and  filled  up  with  water.  With  their 
spread  fingers  the  workmen  then  whirl  the  whole  round  and  round; 
so  that  the  water  and  sand  may  pass  over  the  edges  of  the  dish,  and 
the  pure  grains  of  gold  remain  in  the  central  hollow.  This  gold  is 
obtained  without  the  aid  of  quicksilver  or  fire. 

Brazil  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  two  richest  gold  countries  in  the 
world.  The  discovery  of  her  gold  mines  was  made  by  a  party  of 
soldiers,  who  were  sent  into  the  inland  provinces  to  quell  an  insur- 
rection, and  found  among  the  natives  some  fishhooks  made  of  gold. 
On  inquiry  they  were  informed  that  the  gold  was  brought  down 
from  the  mountains  by  the  floods,  when  the  torrents  came  rushing 
into  the  valleys.  This  was  enough  to  instigate  a  diligent  search. 
It  is  true,  only  a  few  veins  of  gold  were  discovered,  but  the  quantity 
of  grains  found  after  the  flood  exceeded  belief.  This  searching  for 
gold  is  now  the  employment  of  negroes,  who  have  this  privilege, 
that  if  any  one  brings  the  quantity  required  of  him,  his  master  can- 
not demand  of  him  any  more.  ,  Should  he  find  more,  it  becomes  his 
own  property;  and,  if  he  can  save  enough  of  it,  he  may  purchase 
his  freedom. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  247 


Forrester's  Evenings  at  Home. 

RIVERS. 

Henry.  Good-evening,  Mr.  Forrester ;  we  have  been  waiting  veiy 
anxiously  for  the  cars.     You  see  our  room  is  full  to  night. 

M.  F.  So  much  the  better.  It  is  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  me 
to  know  that  I  can  be  instrumental  in  imparting  knowledge,  in  my 
rough  way,  to  the  young.  But  we  have  no  subject  fixed  upon  for 
to-night.     What  shall  we  talk  about  ? 

Flora.     Eivers,  rivers  ! 

Helen.     Oceans,  Mr.  Forrester,  oceans  ! 

George.     Winds,  winds,  winds  ! 

M.  F.  Stop,  stop  !  one  at  a  time,  and  I  will  settle  the  matter.  We 
cannot  talk  about  two  things  at  once.  I  will  write  down  the  subjects 
on  this  scrip  of  paper,  and  put  a  number  against  each  one.  There 
are  six  of  them.     Now,  Henry,  what  number  will  you  choose  ? 

Henry.     Number  three. 

M.  F.     Well,  let  me  see  :  number  three.  Rivers. 

So,  withyoui  permission,  we  will  converse  a  little  while  about  those 
great  natural  veins  of  the  earth.     But  what  are  rivers  ? 


248  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

George.  Streams  of  water,  running  along  the  surface  of  tht 
earth,  in  natural  channels. 

M.  F.  A  Tery  excellent  definition.  Rivers  may  be  large  or 
small,  according  to  the  extent  of  country  which  they  drain.  A  very 
small  stream  is  generally  called  a  brook,  but  it  is  merely  a  small 
river.  Rivers,  for  the  most  part,  rise  in  high  lands,  from  springs  or 
the  melting  of  ice  and  snow.  When  the  fall  of  water  is  gentle,  it  is 
called  a  rivulet ;  when  violent,  a  torrent.  As  it  courses  along,  other 
small  streams  fall  into  it,  and  thus  it  keeps  constantly  increasing  in 
size  until  it  falls  into  the  sea  or  ocean.  Every  ridge  of  mountains 
and  high  lands,  running  through  a  continent  or  country,  gives  rise  to 
numerous  rivers.  On  each  side,  they  pour  forth  streams  of  water, 
which  wind  through  the  valleys,  refreshing  vegetation,  propelling 
machinery,  and  furnishing  a  sort  of  highway  for  boats ;  and,  having 
performed  their  destiny,  discharge  themselves  into  the  ocean.  By 
the  process  of  evaporation  the  water  is  again  raised  as  clouds,  and 
carried  by  the  wind  into  the  interior  of  the  country,  where  it  falls  as 
rain  or  snow ;  and  thus  the  mighty,  curious,  wonderful  system  goes 
on  for  ages  and  ages,  without  danger  of  interruption  !  Look  over 
your  head.  Those  clouds,  which  you  have  so  often  seen,  are  but 
buckets,  if  I  may  so  speak,  carrying  water  about,  emptying  it  here 
and  there  for  your  benefit.  Now,  did  you  ever  really  think  of  how 
much  importance  they  are  ?  Why,  without  them,  the  springs,  rivers, 
ponds,  and  lakes,  would  soon  dry  entirely  away,  the  earth  would  be 
parched,  the  trees  and  plants  would  dry  up,  the  cattle  and  the  beasts 
of  the  forest  would  die,  and  the  earth  would  be  unfit  to  sustain  life. 

Henry.  There  are  some  countries  where  there  is  but  very  little 
rain,  like  Egypt.     How  do  the  inhabitants  do  without  it  ? 

M.  F.  By  another  very  wonderful  and  interesting  provision  of 
nature.  The  Nile,  which  runs  through  Egypt,  from  south  to  north, 
is  a  very  long  river,  and,  once  every  year,  it  overflows  its  banks,  and 
waters  the  valleys  on  both  sides  profusely.  This  overflow  happens 
regularly,  and  is  caused  by  long  and  heavy  rains  on  the  mountains 
in  the  interior  of  Africa.  It  takes  nearly  two  months,  after  the  rainy 
season  begins,  for  the  water  to  reach  what  is  called  the  valley  of  the 
Nile,  m  sufficient  quantity  to  make  this  overflow.  Without  it  the 
banks  of  that  river  would  be  as  barren  as  the  deserts  which  surround  it. 


Forrester's  evenings  at  home.  249 

Ivivers  generally  have  but  one  outlet,  called  the  it  outh.  Some 
have  several.  The  Ganges  has  eight,  all  of  which  are  large  and 
deep.  The  Nile,  the  Mississippi,  and  some  other  rivers,  have  numer- 
ous outlets. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  valleys  as  the  natural  beds  of  rivers.  So  in- 
deed they  are,  yet  there  are  one  or  two  exceptions  to  this  rule,  and 
exceptions  worthy  of  notice.  The  Mississippi  river,  the  longest 
stream  of  water  in  the  world,  for  hundreds  of  miles  from  its  mouth 
runs  along  on  the  top  of  a  ridge  of  land.  This  may  appear  strange 
to  you,  yet  it  is  a  fact.  The  surface  of  the  land  or  swamps,  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  is  considerably  below  the  surface  of  the  water. 
The  water  during  the  annual  freshets  sometimes  breaks  over  these 
banks,  or  levees,  as  they  are  called,  and  thousands  of  acres  of  planta- 
tions, and  even  towns  and  settlements,  are  overflowed.  In  the  spring 
of  1849,  you  may  remember,  there  was  a  large  breakage  or  crevasse  in 
the  river  bank,  and  great  alarm  spread  over  that  portion  of  the  States. 
Several  streets,  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  were  inundated,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  river  had  fallen  considerably,  that  the  places  uere 
stopped.  The  water  stood  like  large  lakes  upon  the  swamps,  and 
for  some  time  many  of  the  roads  were  under  water,  and  totally  im- 
passable. Geologists  tell  us  that  probably  the  larger  part  of  the 
State  of  Louisiana  has  been  made  by  the  Mississippi  river.  Dur- 
ing the  greater  part  of  the  year,  the  water  of  this  river  is  thick  with 
mud,  washed  from  the  banks,  which  are  continually  wearing  away, 
and  this  is  dropped  at  the  outlets,  and  in  time  forms  land.  We  can 
judge  pretty  well  of  the  truth  of  this  from  the  fact  that  the  old  Balize, 
a  post  erected  by  the  French,  in  1724,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  is  now 
two  miles  and  a  half  distant  from  the  present  mouth.  When  you 
are  old  enough  to  understand  Geology,  there  are  many  more  facts  in 
regard  to  this  river  that  will  interest  you. 

Henry.  I  have  heard  of  underground  rivers,  but  I  suppose  there 
is  no  such  thing. 

M.  F.  Certainly  there  are  many  underground  streams,  one  of 
which  I  have  seen.  I  was  travelling  along  in  the  stage,  some  years 
ago,  in  Kentucky,  near  the  line  of  Tennessee,  when  all  at  once  a 
river  appeared  bursting  out  from  the  side  of  a  mountain.  We  fol- 
lowed the  stream  for  some  distance,  and  I  saw  several  small  mills 


250  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

carried  by  the  water.  Presently  the  water  fell  into  a  sort  of  pit  in 
the  rocks,  and  was  entirely  lost  from  sight. 

Flora.  Why,  Mr.  Forrester,  where  does  the  water  go  to  ?  I 
should  think  that  the  pit  would  be  filled  up. 

M.  F.  Perhaps  it  has  no  bottom  to  it.  I  will  warrant  ycni  that 
the  water  finds  the  ocean  in  some  way.  Kentucky  is  a  queer  state 
in  this  respect.  There  are  several  caves  and  deep  chasms  in  the 
rocks  within  her  borders,  and  the  sound  of  water  can  frequently  be 
heard  in  them.  The  great  Mammoth  cave  has  been  explored  more 
than  three  miles  under  ground.  At  this  point  one  of  these  under- 
ground rivers  runs  directly  across  the  path.  It  is  a  stream  of  respect- 
able size,  and  it  here  falls  over  a  precipice  —  I  dare  not  say  how 
deep  —  but  it  must  be  a  great  ways.  The  roar  of  the  water  below 
is  distant,  yet  the  air  around  seems  to  be  shaken  by  the  fall.  Who 
can  tell  how  much  longer  this  cave  is  ?  Perhaps  it  may,  at  some 
future  day,  be  explored  a  great  distance  further.  But  there  is  yet 
something  wonderful  in  regard  to  this  cave  to  tell  you.  In  the  water 
above  spoken  of  there  are  a  multitude  of  fish  without  eyes.  When  I 
first  learned  this,  I  confess  that  my  belief  was  staggered.  But  I  can- 
not doubt  now  that  such  is  the  fact.  They  not  only  have  no  eyes,  but 
there  are  not  any  of  the  optical  nerves  in  the  head,  usually  found  con- 
necting the  eye  with  the  brain.  Here  we  have  a  striking  instance  of  the 
wisdom  of  our  Creator.  These  fish  have  no  use  for  eyes.  They  are 
shut  up  in  a  dark  dungeon,  away  from  the  light  forever.  Yet  it  is  just 
as  difficult  to  catch  these  fish  as  though  they  had  the  best  of  eyes.  He 
w^ho  "  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  has  not  left  them  defence- 
less. Their  sense  of  feeling  is  so  perfect  that  upon  the  approach  of  a 
net,  with  which  they  are  sometimes  taken,  they  will  dart  away  in  an  in- 
stant, and  it  requires  considerable  skill  and  patience  to  capture  them. 
You  would  suppose  that  without  eyes  they  would  be  continually  run- 
ning their  noses  against  the  rocks  ;  but  it  is  not  so.  Their  other  fine 
senses,  of  which  we  know  nothing,  tell  them  when  they  are  in  danger. 
Wonderful  as  this  is,  plainly  as  the  hand  of  an  all-wise  Prcridence  is 
here  displayed,  it  is  but  one  page  from  the  great  book  of  Nature.  Look 
around  you  where  you  wiL,  and  God  is  written  everywhere.  Not 
only  in  these  little  fishes,  created  without  eyes,  because  they  are 
placed  where  the  light  of  day  never  penetrates,  but  everywhere,  in 


THE    CHAMOIS. 


251 


the  forest,  in  the  fields,  in  the  seasons,  winter  and  summer,  light  and 
darkness,  on  the  shores  of  the  great  ocean,  and  by  the  side  of  the  rip- 
pling brook,  everything  we  examine  has  its  story  to  tell  of  the 
bounty  and  goodness  of  our  Creator.  You,  doubtless,  wonder  how  any 
reasonable  being  can  deny  the  existence  of  God,  with  all  these  proofs 
before  him.  It  is,  certainly,  very  strange.  But  you  are  young,  and 
every  day  you  live  will  show  you  other  proofs  as  great  as  these. 
When  the  snows  of  more  than  seventy  v/inters  have  whitened  your 
locks,  as  they  have  mine,  I  am  sure  you  will  think  it  the  greatest 
wonder  of  all,  that  a  reasoning  human  creature  should  reject  these 
proofs  of  a  kind  Providence,  as  inconclusive  and  visionary. 


The    Chamois. 


One  of  the  most  interesting  animals  known  is  the  chamois,  a 
picture  of  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this  article.  Its  form  is  that 
of  a  slender-formed  goat,  but  with  less  shaggy  hair.     It  inhabits  the 


252  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

high  districts  upon  the  sde  of  the  Alps,  in  Switzerhntl,  between  the 
elevated  glaciers  where  perpetual  snow  is  found,  and  the  forests  be- 
low. It  is  not  more  than  two  and  a  half  feet  in  height,  with  black 
horns,  crooking  backwards  at  the  tips. 

They  go  in  herds  of  twenty  or  thirty,  and  feed  upon  the  Alpine 
pastures,  which  give  a  peculiar  richness  to  their  flesh,  much 
esteemed  as  venison.  Their  skins,  too,  are  valuable,  and,  to  capture 
ihem,  the  hunters  ply  their  hazardous  employment,  which  carries 
them  to  places  of  the  wildest  and  most  precipitous  description.  Few 
ravines  will  stop  the  chamois.  It  will  either  scale  or  leap  them. 
"  We  have  seen  it,"  says  a  traveller,  "  leaping  down  a  precipice, 
sliding  first  the  fore  legs  down  the  steep,  while,  with  its  hind  feet,  it 
held  the  edge  of  the  rock,  till  the  centre  of  gravity  was  lowered  as 
far  as  possible,  then  bounding  forward  and  alight  on  its  hind  feet 
without  any  apparent  effort.  These  descents  we  have  witnessed  to 
the  depth  of  more  than  twenty  feet;  and  it  will  not  hesitate  to  leap 
down  even  thirty." 

All  the  senses  of  the  chamois  are  extremely  acute  ;  and  these, 
combined  with  its  great  agility,  are  the  guards  and  defence  from 
danger  with  which  Providence  has  endowed  this  otherwise  defence- 
less animal.  Its  sense  of  smell,  it  is  said,  will  enable  it  to  perceive 
an  aggressor  at  a  distance  of  two  miles.  It  voice,  when  undisturbed, 
is  a  kind  of  low  bleating,  but,  when  alarmed,  it  is  changed  into  a 
shrill  blast,  or  whistle,  which  is  known  to  the  herd,  and  at  once  sets 
them  upon  the  alert. 


Flattery. 

One  of  the  very  worst  kinds  of  deceit  is  flattery.  You  maybe 
sure  that  they  who  flatter  you  are  not  your  friends.  They  general- 
ly have  a  purpose  in  view:  — either  to  be  pai'd  back  in  their  own 
coin,  or  to  gain  some  favor  from  you.  In  illustration  of  this,  I  will 
relate  an  anecdote  which  I  lately  heard  :  — 

A  carpenter  was  working  in  his  shop  one  morning,  and  on  taking 
up  his  axe  he  found  it  wanted  grinding  sadly,  and  having  sent  his 
stone  to  be  repaired,  he  set  out  in  quest  of  a  person  who  would  lend 


THE    DERVISE.  25S 

him  one.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  a  Httle  boy  on  his  way 
to  school.  "  Good  morning-,  my  fine  little  fe'low  !  "  said  he,  *'  Oh, 
what  a  handsome  lad  I  (the  boy  was  rather  ugly)  I  suppose  you  are 
off  to  school;  ah,  a  fine  thing  learning  is  !  Now,  I  '11  be  bound  you 
are  a  clever  lad  —  as  clever  as  you  are  handsome!  How  old  are 
you?"  "Ten,  sir,"  replied  the  delighted  lad.  "Where  do  you 
live,  my  dear  ?  "  "  About  a  mile  off  here,  sir,"  said  the  boy.  "What 
is  your  father?"  "A  farmer,  sir."  "Oh,  indeed;  now  I  dare  say 
he  keeps  a  grindstone  ?  "  "  Oh  yes,  sir,  and  it  is  reckoned  a  very 
good  one,"  said  the  boy.  "  That  is  just  what  I  want,  and  I  dare 
say,  my  dear  little  fellow,  you  would  have  no  objection  to  let  me 
grind  my  axe  on  it?"  "  Oh  dear,  no,  sir !  "  "And,  my  darling  — 
I  dare  say  would  go  back  with  me  and  give  it  a  turn  ?"  "  Why, 
mother  would  beat  me  if  I  v/as  to  turn  back  from  school,  sir ;  but  I 
will  tell  you  where  the  house  is."  "  Oh,  never  mind  that,  you  come 
vith  me,  I  '11  make  it  all  right  with  her  ! " 

Overcome  by  the  flattering  carpenter,  the  poor  boy  retraced  his 
steps,  soon  arrived  at  his  home,  and  taking  his  obsequious  friend  to 
the  grindstone,  set  to  work  right  merrily,  the  carpenter  stopping 
every  now  and  then  to  praise  him,  and  stroke  his  head.  But  lo,  and 
behold !  as  soon  as  the  axe  was  ground,  the  carpenter  dismissed  the 
poor  lad  with  a  rough  kick,  telling  him  to  go  to  school  and  mind  his 
lessons,  and  never  play  truant  again  ! 

Simple  as  this  occurrence  may  seem  to  my  readers,  it  was  a  good 
lesson  to  the  boy,  for,  in  after  life,  if  any  one  began  to  flatter  him, 
he  always  €ut  them  short,  by  saying,  "  Stop  !  you  have  an  axe  to 
grind  !  "  As  it  was  with  the  lad,  so  it  is  with  all :  — you  may  rest 
assured  that  no  one  will  ever  flatter  you  without  having  —  an  axe 
to  grind  ! 


The  Dervise. 

A  DERVISE,  travelling  through  Tartary,  having  arrived  at  the  town 
of  Balk,  went  into  the  king's  palace,  mistaking  it  to  be  a  public  inn 
or  caravansera.  Having  looked  about  him  for  some  time,  he  entered 
into  a  long  gallery,  where  he  laid  down  his  wallet,  and  spread  his 
carpet,  in  order  to  repose  himself  upon  it,  after  the  manner  of  the 


254  PICTOKIAL   MISCELLANY. 

eastern  nations.  He  had  not  been  long  in  this  posture  before  he  was 
discovered  by  some  of  the  guards,  who  asked  him  what  was  his 
wsiness  in  that  place.  The  dervise  told  them  he  intended  to  take 
up  his  night's  lodging  in  that  caravansera.  The  guards  let  him 
know,  in  a  very  angry  manner,  that  the  house  he  was  in  was  not 
a  caravansera,  but  the  king's  palace.  It  happened  that  the  king 
himself  passed  through  the  gallery  during  the  debate,  and,  smiling  at 
the  mistake  of  the  dervise,  asked  him  how  he  could  possibly  be  so 
dull  as  not  to  distinguish  a  palace  from  a  caravansera.  "  Sir,"  said 
the  dervise,  "  give  me  leave  to  ask  your  m.ajesty  a  question  or  two. 
Who  were  the  persons  who  lodged  in  this  house  when  it  was  first 
built?  "  The  king  replied,  "  his  ancestors."  "And  who,"  said  the 
dervise,  "  was  the  last  that  lodged  here  ?"  The  king  replied,  "  his 
father."  "  And  who  is  it,"  says  the  dervise,  "  that  lodges  here  at 
present  ?  "  The  king  told  him  that  "  it  was  he  himself."  "And  who," 
says  the  dervise,  "  will  be  here  after  you  ?  "  The  king  answered, 
"  the  young  prince,  his  son."  "Ah,  sir !  "  says  the  dervise,  "  a  house 
that  changes  its  inhabitants  so  often,  and  receives  such  a  perpetual 
succession  of  guests,  is  surely  not  a  palace,  but  a  caravansera ! " 


Little  Harry  Lee. 

I  HAD  a  little  cousin  once. 

His  name  was  Harry  Lee  — 
And  through  the  long,  bright  summer  days, 

We  played  so  merrily  ! 

Beside  the  busy,  babbling  brook 

He  'd  build  a  house  for  me ; 
And  I  would  gather  shells  and  flowers 

For  little  Harry  Lee. 

And  in  the  morning,  blithe  and  gay 

As  any  lark  was  he  ; 
For  when  I  heard  a  merry  laugh, 

I  knew  't  was  Harry  Lee. 

At  night,  he  'd  say  his  hymn  and  prayor 
Beside  his  mother's  knee  — 


LITTLE    HARRY   LEE. 

For  never  lived  a  better  boy 
Than  little  Harry  Lee. 

But  autumn  came,  and  every  leaf 

Grew  yellow  on  the  tree ; 
And  through  the  naked  branches  swept 

The  wind,  so  drearily  ! 

And  then,  alas !  no  cousin  came 
To  gather  flowers  with  me : 

But  every  day  I  climbed  the  hill, 
To  look  for  Harry  Lee. 

But  still,  throughout  the  weary  day, 

No  Harry  could  I  see  ; 
And  echo,  when  I  called  his  name, 

Would  answer  —  Harry  Lee  ! 

At  last,  beside  the  very  brook 
Where  he  had  played  with  me, 

I  found  a  little  grassy  grave, 
Wiiere  rested  —  Harry  Lee. 

And  on  this  liitle,  narrow  grave, 

My  tears  were  falling  free. 
When  from  the  sky  I  heard  the  voice 

Of  little  Harry  Lee. 

"  My  cousin  Mary,  cease  to  shed 

Those  bitter  tears  for  me  ; 
For  Jesus  Christ  once  died  to  save 

Poor  little  Harry  Lee. 

"  And  in  his  arms,  for  evermore, 

Safe  sheltered  I  shall  be ; 
He  loves  me  more  than  you  could  love 

Poor  little  Harry  Lee  !  " 

And  then  I  wiped  my  falling  tears, 
And  smiling,  turned  to  see, 

If  I  could  find  the  cherub  face 
Of  little  Harry  Lee. 

The  clouds  around  the  setting  sun 
Were  sailing  bright  and  free, 

And  weaving  o'er  the  evening  sky 
Their  golden  drapery. 


255 


256  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

But  far  beyond  the  rainbow  clouds, 
^  That  danced  with  fairy  j?lft«™, 

And  far  beyond  the  setting  suo 
Was  little  Harry  Lee. 

I  knew  that  to  the  Saviour's  breast 
The  timid  dove  might  flee  ; 

For  I  had  heard  that  Jesus  said, 
"  Let  children  come  to  me." 

So  on  my  cousin's  lowly  grave 
I  bowed  the  trembling  knee, 

And  prayed  that  I  in  heaven  might  live 
With  little  Harry  Lee. 


Intelligence  in  a  Fish. 

At  a  recent  meeting  of  the  Liverpool  Philosophical  Society,  Dr. 
Warwick  related  an  extraordinary  instance  of  intelligence  in  a  fish. 
When  he  resided  at  Durham,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Stamford  and 
Warrington,  he  ^vas  walking  one  evening  in  the  park,  and  came  to 
a  pond  where  fish  intended  for  the  table  were  temporarily  kept.  He 
took  particular  notice  of  a  fine  pike,  about  six  pounds' weight,  which, 
when  it  observed  him,  darted  hastily  away.  In  so  doing,  it  struck 
its  head  against  a  tenterhook  in  a  post  (of  which  there  were  several 
in  the  pond,  placed  to  prevent  poaching,)  and  as  it  afterwards  ap- 
peared, fractured  its  skull,  and  turned  the  optic  nerve  on  one  side. 
The  agon}'-  evinced  by  the  animal  appeared  most  horrible.  It  rushed 
to  the  bottom,  and  boring  its  head  into  the  mud,  whirled  itself  round 
with  such  a  velocity  that  it  was  almost  lost  to  the  sight  for  a  short 
interval.  It  then  plunged  about  the  pond,  and  at  length  threw  itself 
completely  out  of  the  water  on  the  bank.  He  (the  doctor)  went  and 
examined  it,  and  found  that  a  very  small  portioti  of  the  brain  was 
protruding  from  the  fracture  in  the  skull.  The  fish  remained  still 
for  a  short  time,  and  he  then  put  it  again  into  the  pond.  It  appeared 
at  first  a  deal  relieved  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes  it  again  darted  and 
plunged  abon^t,  until  it  threw  itself  out  of  the  water  a  second  t'me. 


NEATNESS    AND    ORDER.  257 

A  second  time  Dr.  Warwick  did  what  he  could  to  relieve  it,  and 
again  put  it  into  the  water.  It  continued  for  several  times  to  thiow 
itself  out  of  the  pond,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  the  keeper,  the  doc- 
tor at  length  made  a  kind  of  pillow  for  the  fish,  which  was  then  left 
in  the  pond  to  its  fate.  Upon  making  his  appearance  at  the  pond 
on  the  following  morning,  the  pike  came  towards  him  to  the  edge 
of  the  water,  and  actually  kid  its  head  upon  his  foot.  The  doctor 
thought  this  most  extraordinary ;  but  he  examined  the  fish's  skull, 
and  found  it  going  on  all  right.  He  then  walked  backwards  and 
forwards  along  the  edge  of  the  pond  for  some  time,  and  the  fish  con- 
tinued to  swim  np  and  down,  turning  whenever  he  turned  ;  but  being 
blind  on  the  wounded  side  of  its  skull,  it  always  appeared  agitated 
when  it  had  that  side  to  the  bank,  as  it  could  not  then  see  its  bene- 
factor. On  the  next  day  he  took  some  young  friends  down  to  see 
the  fish,  which  came  to  him  as  usual  ;  and  at  length  he  actually 
taught  the  pike  to  come  to  him  at  his  whistle,  and  feed  out  of  his 
hands.  With  other  persons  it  continued  as  shy  as  fish  usually  are. 
He  (Dr.  Warwick)  thought  this  a  most  remarkable  instance  of  grat- 
itude in  a  fish  for  a  benefit  received  ;  and  as  it  always  came  to  his 
whistle,  it  proved  also  —  what  he  had  previously,  with  other  natural- 
ists, disbelieved  —  that  fishes  are  sensible  to  sound. 


Neatness  and  Order. 


Are  you  a  little  boy  ?  Learn  that  good  old  lesson  found  in  the 
maxim,  "  a  place  for  everything,  and  everything  in  its  place."  Your 
books,  your  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  And  when  you  are  at  work,  take 
care  of  your  tools,  and  see  that  they  are  put  up  carefully  when  you 
have  done.  Do  things  at  the  right  time,  and  you  will  have  time  to 
do  them,  and  to  do  them  right. 

Are  you  a  little  girl  ?  Learn  the  same  lesson.  Do  not  throw 
down  your  geography  here,  your  grammar  there,  and  your  slate 
and  pencil  yonder.  When  you  are  at  work,  do  it  as  if  you  were  in 
earnest  about  it ;  and  when  you  have  finished  any  piece  of  work,  do 
not  thr)w  things  kelter-slielter,  and  leave  them  for  your  mother  to 
pick  up  and  put  away, 
17' 


258  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

i  have  known  people  do  everything  in  such  a  loose  and  careless 
manner,  that  their  time  was  not  worth  more  than  half  what  it  other- 
wise would  have  been.  If  a  boy  was  to  cut  a  little  fuel  for  the  fire, 
the  axe  was  to  look  for.  If  the  garden  was  to  weed,  the  hoe  was 
first  to  search  for.  If  he  was  told  to  recite  a  lesson,  his  book  could 
not  be  found  without  a  search.  If  a  little  girl  was  directed  to  knit 
a  little,  she  had  to  look  about  a  long  time  for  her  yarn  and  needles. 
If  she  was  called  upon  to  work  a  simple  sum  in  addition,  her  pencil 
could  not  be  found.  And  if  she  laid  aside  but  a  cape  or  a  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, ten  to  one  if  she  did  not  have  to  look  into  every  room  in 
the  house  before  she  found  it. 

Now,  children,  let  me  tell  you  that  this  want  of  neatness,  order 
and  despatch,  muhiplies  the  troubles  of  life  —  heaps  up  difficulties 
in  one's  way  —  occasionally  separates  friends,  and  induces  careless 
habits,  which  will  ripen  into  the  maturity  of  stubborn  faults,  and  se- 
rious blemishes,  in  the  character  of  the  most  honest,  industrious  and 
intelligent  young  persons  in  the  land.  Now  just  think;  and  while 
you  think,  endeavor  to  avoid  the  evils  against  which  I  have  cau- 
tioned you. 


Hear  both  Sides. 


"  Ma,  can't  I  have  two  apples  this  evening?  —  Charles  had  four 
to-day  and  would  not  give  me  one." 

"  I  did  not  think  Charles  could  be  so  selfish.  Where  did  he  get 
them  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  boys  at  school  gave  them  to  him.  He  lad  four; 
can't  I  have  two  ?  " 

Presently  Charles  entered. 

"  Charles,  how  could  you  be  so  selfish  and  ungenerous,  as  not  to 
give  your  brother  a  part  of  your  apples,  when  you  had  so  many  ?" 

"  I  did  offer  him  as  much  I  had.  Ma,  and  he  would  not  take  it.** 

"  Yes,  you  offered  me  the  half  of  one  out  of  four." 

"  I  should  certainly  think,  Charles,  you  might  have  given  your 
brother  a  whole  apple  at  least.  You  may  go  without  any  this  even- 
ing, and  he  shall  have  yours." 


HEAR    BOTH    SIDES*  25$ 

"Now,  Ma,  I  '11  just  tell  you  how'it  was.  You  know  our  teacher 
took  us  to  walk.  One  of  the  boys  bought  some  apples,  and  gave  me 
four.  I  gave  one  to  our  teacher ;  one  to  a  boy  who  had  given  me  a 
piece  of  cake ;  I  could  do  no  less  than  give  one  to  the  boy  who 
walked  with  me,  and  I  offered  Frederic  the  half  of  the  one  I  had 
left.  Now,  do  you  think  that  I  ought  to  have  given  him  any  more  ?" 

"  Frederic,  is  this  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  doubt  it?" 

"No  ma'am." 

"  Did  not  Charles  offer  you  half  of  the  only  apple  he  had  left  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  but  I  think  he  might  have  given  me  a  whole 
one." 

"  I  do  not.  1  think  he  acted  very  properly  in  the  distribution  of 
the  apples,  and  very  generous  in  offering  you  the  half  of  what  he 
had  reserved  for  himself.  Your  partial  representation  was  most 
unjust,  and  made  me  judge  Charles  wrongfully.  I  regret  having 
condemned  him  unheard,  and  for  your  unfair  representation,  I  shall 
insist  that  you  forfeit  your  apple,  so  that  instead  of  getting  two  you 
will  have  none  ;  and  I  hope  this  circumstance  may  teach  you  ever 
after,  that,  even  in  this  world,  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

For  my  own  part,  I  laid  the  lesson  to  heart,  and  regarded  it  as  one 
more  illustration  of  the  obligation  we  are  under  to  "  hear  both 
sides." 


The  Earl  of  S.  kept  an  Irish  footman.  My  lord  having  sent  him 
one  day  with  a  present  to  a  certain  judge,  the  judge,  in  return,  sent 
my  lord  half  a  dozen  live  partridges,  with  a  letter.  The  partridges 
fluttering  in  the  basket  upon  Teague's  head,  as  he  was  bringing  it 
home,  he  set  down  the  basket  and  opened  the  lid  of  it  to  quiet  them ; 
whereupon  they  all  flew  away.  "  0,"  said  he,  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
gone."  When  he  came  home,  and  his  lordship  had  read  the  letter, 
"  Why,  Teague,"  said  he,  "  I  find  there  are  half  a  dozen  partridges 
if.  the  letter." — "  Now,  arrah,  dear  honey,"  said  Teague,"!  am 
glad  you  have  found  them  in  the  letter,  for  they  are  all  flew  out  of 
the  basket ! " 


260  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

My  Visit  to  the  Country. 

I  WAS  resting  myself  in  my  old  arm-chair  in  ray  quiet  room  not 
many  days  ago,  when  there  entered  a  gentleman  with  two  children  ; 
an  intelligent  boy  and  girl  of  about  a  dozen  or  fourteen  years  of  age. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Mark  Forrester  ?  "  said  they. 

I  am  known  by  that  name,  my  friends,  I  replied. 

The  gentleman  then  said  his  children  were  my  "  constant  read- 
ers," and  feeling  a  desire  to  see  the  "  good  old  man  "  who  every 
year  made  such  an  interesting  book  for  them,  they  had  persuaded 
him  to  "bring  them  to  town  and  call  on  me.  "  And  if,"  said  he, 
"  your  time  and  strength  will  allow^  we  all  should  be  very  happy  to 
have  you  accompany  us  home  in  the  eleven  o'clock  train,  and  dine 
and  spend  the  afternoon." 

I  thanked  my  new  friends,  and  told  them  I  would  accept  their 
kind  invitation  with  pleasure.     I  soon  found  out  the  names  of  my 

young  friends  —  William  and  Lucy .     They  remained  with 

me  the  hour  before  the  cars  started,  while  their  father  went  to  attend 
to  some  business.  I  showed  them  all  my  curiosities,  as  the  best  way 
to  entertain  them.  I  find  I  can  easily  tell  how  much  children  have 
studied,  and  how  extensively  they  have  read,  by  simply  opening  my 
cabinet  doors.  They  exclaimed  at  sight  of  some  stones  which  I 
picked  up,  a  good  many  years  ago,  near  Rochester,  New  York,  filled 
with  shells  —  shells  that  had  been  rolled  by  the  waves  of  the  sea 
and  imbedded  in  earth,  and  which  ages  had  petrified  ! 

My  schoolmates,  most  of  whom  are  now  dead,  knowing  my  fond- 
ness for  remarkable  specimens  and  relics,  have  assisted  me  in  col- 
lecting from  all  parts  of  the  earth  through  which  they  have  travelled, 
curiosities,  whi:h  I  value  more  than  silver  or  gold. 

We  were  all  in  the  midst  of  an  earnest  conversation  over  a  dravvei 

of  beautiful  fossil  fish,  when  Mr.  S returned.     After  we  had 

arrived  at  the  large  and  commodious  depot  of  the  Fitcliburg  Rail- 
road we  found  that  we  had  a  few  minutes  to  look  at  the  elegant 
building. 

Shortly  afier  we  had  taken  our  seats  in  the  cars,  we  all  felt  a  tre- 
mendous jerk,  and  were  soon  aware  that  the  fiery  steed  was  har- 
nessed to  our  train.     Now  what  a  delightful  view  we  had  from  the 


iMY    VISIT    TO    THE    COUNTRY. 


261 


cars,  as,  enjoying  the  fresh  country  breeze,  we  glided  out  of  Boston. 
Fast  as  we  came  to  "  crossings  "  the  steam-whistle  would  sound  its 
shrill,  ''  Get  out  of  the  wat/."  There  seemed  to  be  a  peculiar  sound 
about  this  whistle  to-day.  It  seemed  dreadfully  hoarse  I  William 
asked  the  conductor,  with  whom  he  seemed  well  acquainted,  if  the 
engine  had  not  got  cold?  "  I  don't  know  about  that,"  he  replied ;  "I 
think,  however,  it  will  get  warm,  going  at  this  rate,  before  we  get  to 
Keene." 

On  we  went,  through  Cambridge,  with  its  beautiful,  cultivated 
grounds,  and  elegant  houses,  and.  Waltham,  where,  while  the  cars 
stopped  a  few  minutes,  we  heard  the  hum  from  the  factories,  and, 

having  rode  some  distance  further,  to  — ■ station,  we  alighted. 

A  comfortable  carriage  was  waiting.  After  a  ride  of  a  mile,  I  found 
myself  approaching  the  home  of  my  friends.  As  we  rode  up  to  the 
door,  I  discovered  some  young  heads  peering  out  of  a  window  through 
a  mass  of  grape  foliage,  which  rendered  the  blind  unnecessary. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  had  the  whole  company  of  children  alone 
with  me  in  the  parlor,  and  after  hearing  from  the  younger  portion 
an  account  of  the  chickens,  ducks,  &;c.,  they  begged  me  to  tell  them 
a  story. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "once  upon  a  time" — isn't  that  a  good  begin- 
ning?    "  Excellent,"  little  Ann  cried,  clapping  her  hands. 

Then  before  I  go  any  further  —  did  you  watch  rny  eyes  when  a 
young  man  came  round  the  piazza  to  take  the  horse  ?  He  did  not 
see  me,  and  I  guess  you  did  not  witness  the  interest  with  which  1 
regarded  him?     They  all  said  "  No." 

Now  for  my  story  : 

Once  upon  a  time,  perhaps  eight,  perhaps  nine,  years  ago,  not 
longer,  for  I  was  an  old-man  then,  I  remember,  I  was  walking  home 
from  East  Boston.  I  recollect  well  how  beautifully  the  harbor 
appeared  when  we  crossed  the  ferry  that  fine  moonlight  evening. 
The  loose  sails  hanging  from  the  shipping  seemed,  when  distant, 
like  the  uplifted  wings  of  snow-white  swans.  The  peaceful  influ- 
ences of  the  night,  I  know,  had  so  affected  me  that  I  was  ill-prepared 
for  whit  followed. 

For  some  reasons,  although  it  gave  me  a  longer  journey,  I  went 
through  Ann  street.     I  never  had  a  very  exalted  opinion  of  some  of 


262  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

the  denizens  of  this  part  of  our  city,  for  scenes  of  outrage  upon  life 
and  property  had  often  there  occurred. 

I  was  walking  quite  leisurely  along  somewhere  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Clark  Alley,  when  I  stopped  short  on  hearing,  in  a  ruffian- 
like  voice,  "  If  ycni  don*t  I  HI  kill  you."  The  voice  proceeded  from 
a  cellar.  I  listened  a  moment,  and  heard  blows,  and  a  boy  crying  in 
heart-broken  tones,  "  Oh !  my  mother ! " 

If  it  had  cost  me  my  life  I  should  not  have  hesitated.  I  dashe 
into  that  underground  abode  of  passion  and  brutality,  determined  to 
know  why  I  had  heard  such  words.  There  was  a  man,  half  intoxi- 
cated, standing  over  a  pale-looking  boy,  about  ten  years  of  age» 
whom  he  had  been  cruelly  beating.  A  woman  lay,  on  what  I  sup- 
pose they  called  a  bed,  about  as  insensible  to  humanity  as  her 
drunken  husband.  The  furniture  of  the  room  was  trifling,  and 
seemed  to  embrace  all  the  conveniences  for  drinking,  which,  by  the 
looks  of  the  inmates,  had  been  considerably  improved. 

As  I  entered  without  much  notice,  cane  in  hand,  the  miserable 
couple  turned  their  inflamed  eyes  upon  me  with  rage.  I  walked 
boldly  up  in  front  of  the  man,  and  looking  him  resolutely  in  the  face 
said,  "  What  are  you  doing  with  this  child?"  He  made  me  no 
reply,  but  loosening  his  hold  of  the  lad,  walked  off  towards  his  wife. 

The  poor  boy,  glad  to  be  released,  told  me,  in  a  low  sobbing  voice, 
his  story.  His  mother  had  died  about  two  weeks  before.  She  was 
a  widow,  and  he  her  only  child.  After  her  death  he  came  to  live 
with  his  uncle,  who  took  what  little  property  his  mother  left ;  that 
they  had  now  spent  it,  and  were  enraged  with  him  because  he  would 
not  go  out  into  the  streets  and  steal  something  for  which  they  could 
obtain  rum.  "And  sir,"  said  the  little  fellow,  "  I  'II  die  before  I  '11 
steal !     My  mother  told  me  never  to  take  what  did  not  belong  to  me." 

"  You  are  right,  my  good  boy,"  I  said,  taking  him  by  the  hand ; 
"come  with  me,  and  you  shall  no  longer  be  dependent  on  these 
wretches  for  a  home."  They  saw  I  was  in  earnest,  and,  perhaps 
intimidated  by  the  cane,  made  no  resistance  ;  but,  cursing  us  smartly, 
allowed  us  to  walk  out. 

I  soon  found  that  my  young  friend  was  a  lad  of  spirit,  although 
almost  heart-broken.  Ill  treatment,  joined  with  grief  at  his  mother's 
death,  had  pressed  heavily  upon  him.     I  talked  with  him  on  the  way 


MY    VISIT   TO    THE    COUNTRY.  263 

home  about  what  business  he  would  like  to  follow.  I  told  him  I 
would  find  him  some  situation  where  he  would  be  kindly  treated, 
and  would  trust  to  Providence  for  my  reward.  He  seemed  to  expe- 
rience a  longing  for  the  country ;  and  if  I  would  be  so  kind  as  to  find 
him  some  place  in  the  country  where  he  could  live  on  a  farm,  he 
would  be  very  grateful. 

The  next  day  I  took  a  chaise  and  rode  out  to  W ,  to  a  very 

worthy  friend  of  mine,  and  telling  him  the  story,  asked  him  to  take 
the  boy  and  treat  him  as  his  own  child.  I  believe  my  friends  were 
faithful  to  him.  They  never  neglected  his  education,  but  encouraged 
him  to  prepare  for  a  life  of  usefulness  and  honor.  My  charity  cost 
me  but  little.  I  gave  him  a  few  suits  of  clothes,  but  so  willing  and 
industrious  did  he  prove,  that  for  the  last  few  years  he  has  received 
wages  from  the  worthy  farmer,  which  he  conscientiously  thought  he 
had  earned. 

I  learned,  a  few  months  since,  that  a  wealthy  farmer  in  an  adjoin- 
ing town,  with  a  perfectly  good  understanding  with  my  friend,  hired 
the  young  man  to  superintend  his  workmen,  so  great  was  his  confi 
dence  in  his  skill  and  integrity. 

I  was  obliged  to  hasten  my  story,  towards  its  close,  for  I  saw  I 
must  soon  be  interrupted.  They  all  discovered  I  had  been  telling 
them  of  their  father's  new -foreman,  a  glimpse  of  whom  told  me  that 
I  had  accidentally  come  to  his  present  home. 

Their  many  questions  were  cut  short  by  the  ringing  of  the  dinner- 
bell;   and  w«  all  hastened  to  the  table.      Mr.  S asked  the 

blessing  of  Heaven  on  the  bounty  with  which  the  table  was  spread. 
All  were  helped  before  any  began  to  eat.  I  noticed  nothing  of  that 
vulgarity  of  manners  so  common  in  some  families.  The  children 
were  respectful  to  their  parents  and  to  each  other.  I  saw  that  their 
good  behavio'  was  the  result  of  consistent  and  persevering  effort,  on 
the  part  of  their  parents,  for  which  they,  I  hope,  will  yet  live  to 
thank  them. 

The  conversation  during  the  meal  turned  upon  the  studies  of  chil- 
dren, and  the  books  profitable  for  them  to  read.  I  was  asked  if  I 
would  recommend  Latin  for  William  and  Lucj'-  now.  I  said  yes,  if 
they  have  mastered  all  their  other  studies.  This  was  too  general  a 
reply,  and  I  must  be  more  particular.     Well,  tl  en,  I  consider  any 


264  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

one  or  all  the  foreign  or  dead  languages  but  appendages  to  an  edu- 
cation. A  person  may  talk  in  as  many  languages  as  did  the  builders 
of  Babel,  and  yet  be  confused,  as  they  were,  at  a  simple  question, 
which  a  schoolboy  of  twelve  years  should  answer. 

Perhpps  they  thought  I  was  an  old  man  with  many  whims,  (quite 
likely,)  and  their  guest,  and  it  would  not  be  civil  or  kind  to  express 
different  opinions.  I  must  take  this  occasion  to  say,  I  have  some 
notions  about  the  study  of  the  languages  to  which  I  may  at  some 
subsequent  time  invite  my  readers  to  listen.  I  was  pleased  to  dis- 
cover that  the  parents  had  looked  into  my  Magazine,  and,  with  few 
exceptions,  which  were  kindly  discussed,  approved  of  the  intellect- 
ual aliment  there  provided  for  their  children. 

After  our  excellent  dinner  was  over,  Lucy,  at  my  request,  took  a 
seat  at  the  piano  and  played  a  few  tunes  very  respectably  for  a  girl 
of  her  years.  I  had  missed  Chavles  from  the  number  since  dinner. 
It  seemed  he  had  slipped  olFto  gather  the  young  folks  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, in  honor  of  my  coming.  We  had  walked  but  a  little  \ 
while  in  the  orchard,  admiring  the  fruit,  with  which  the  trees  were 
bending,  when  we  heard  the  shout  of  a  merry  company,  and  sa\y 
Charles  returning  with  his  recruits.  Lucy  now  proposed  that  we 
should  all  go  into  the  arbor  and  act  some  charades.  To  this  they  all 
agreed,  and  skipped  along  with  so  much  life  and  animation,  that  I 
almost  forgot  that  my  days  of  happy  childhood  had  forever  gone. 
After  we  had  all  got  seated  in  the  arbor,  Lucy  took  a  card  out  of 
her  pocket,  and,  writing  some  figures  on  it,  went  round  saying, 
"  You  see,  do  you?  Five  and  four  make  nine,"  Now  all  went  to 
,q;uessing  what  the  word  could  be,  of  which  this  represented  the  first 
syllable.  Next  Lucy  took  a'  glove  in  her  hand  and  showed  it  to  all, 
saying,  "  This  is  a  7nit.  We  will  call  this  a  rnit.''  Next  she  told  a 
little  neighbor,  whom  she  called  Eveline,  to  step  out  with  her. 
Poor  little  Eveline  soon  returned,  bearing  on  her  crooked  back  a 
large  three-legged  stool.  This  scene  was  received  with  shouts  of 
merriment  by  the  whole  company.  Eveline  again  went  out  and 
returned  with  Lucy  to  the  entrance,  where  both  stood  and  rapped. 
They  were  let  in.  This  scene  represented  the  whole  word.  Who 
would  guess  it  first?  Lucy  looked  towards  her  brothers  and  sisters 
and  shook  her  hea  i,  by  which  I  supposed  she  intended  to  say  they 


MY    VISIT    TO    THE    COUNTRY.  265 

must  not  tell  if  they  did  know.  I  soon  made  out  what  it  was, 
although  it  was  new  to  me,  and,  I  thought,  a  capital  one.  I  said 
nothing,  but  watched  the  rest  of  the  company.  Charles  looked  very 
anxious  to  disclose  the  desired  word  to  a  sweet  little  girl  sitting  near 
him.  "  May  I  tell?"  said  I  to  Lucy.  "  Oh  !  yes  sir,"  she  replied. 
Then,  calling  to  my  side  the  little  fairy,  to  whose  petitions  Charles 
was  about  yielding,  I  asked  her  to  read  what  was  on  a  card  which  I 
took  out  of  my  pocket.  She  took  the  card,  and  all  were  still  while 
she  read  — 

Admit  the  Bearer. 

*'  Now,  Mr.  Forrester,"  said  several  of  the  children,  "  do  you  pro- 
pose something." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  let  Charles  mount  that  three-legged  stool.  Now 
if  some  one  will  bring  me  a  feather,  I  will  show  you  what  I  will  do." 
Lucy  flew  to  the  house,  and  soon  returned  with  a  fine  soft  one. 

"  What  do  you  guess  he  is  going  to  do  to  Charley  with  that 
feather?"  asked  one  little  girl  of  her  next  neighbor.  "  0!i  !  I  don't 
know,"  she  replied,  "  without  it  is  to  tickle  him." 

I  called  the  bright-eyed  little  girl  who  read  the  charade,  and  whis- 
pered a  few  words  in  her  ear,  when  she  took  the  feather  and  said, 
"  Master  Charles,  Mr.  Forrester  says  I  must  bring  you  down  on  a 
feather."  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  her,  to  see  how  she  could  do 
a  thing  so  utterly  impossible.  She  looked  very  roguishly,  and 
walked  up  to  Charles  and  said,  "  You  see,  here  's  some  beautiful 
down  which  I  have  brought  you  on  a  feather !  " 

What  a  shout  went  up  through  the  arbor  I  There  were  a  few 
birds,  stealing  grapes,  which  flew  away  as  if  they  had  been  shot  at ! 
When  the  laughter  had  somewhat  subsided,  I  was  besieged  again, 
with,  "Mr.  Forrester,  do  tell  us  another." 

So  I  told  ^William  he  might  get  up  on  the  old  stool  this  time. 
"  William,"  said  I,  "  I  am  going  to  command  you  to  come  down. 
You  need  not  obey  if  you  can  help  it,  but  you  will  get  off  that  stool 
before  I  ask  you  three  times."  William  looked  as  immovable  as  the 
statue  of  Washington  in  the  State  House.  Looking  very  sternly 
at  him,  I  said,  "  Come  down."  He  never  moved.  "  Come  down.'*'' 
Twice  I  had  said  the  \^ords  in  vain.  "  Well,  William,"  said  I, 
"  you  will  come  down  before  I  ask  you  the  third  time,  for  I  don't 
think  of  doing  it  before  Thanksgiving." 
/ 


266  pictoria:    miscellany. 

Seeing  my  kind  host  and  his  lady  approaching  I  arose  and  left 
the  arhor,  to  meet  them.  They  wished  to  look  in  upon  the  young 
folks,  whose  glee  seemed  of  no  ordinary  kind.  There  stood  William, 
making  a  very  awkward  appearance,  in  doubt  whether  he  ought  to 
give  up  or  not.  At  last,  finding  he  was  waiting  only  to  provoke 
laughter,  he  jumped  down. 

Leaving  the  children  for  a  tirae,  I  accompanied  Mr.  S to  a 

neighboring  orchard,  where  his  men  were  gathering  apples.  I  soon 
discovered  the  foreman  among  them,  none  other  than  that  boy  whom 
I  had  rescued  years  before.  He  received  me  with  a  grateful  welcome. 
He  said  his  duties  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  speak  to  me  in  the 

house,  but  that  Mr.  S had  promised  to  bring  me  out  to  see 

him.  I  told  him  I  was  glad  he  had  obtained  so  good  a  situation, 
and  that  he  would  show  his  regard  for  me  by  being  faithful  to  his 
employer. 

I  was  pleased  to  notice  the  handy  manner  in  which  he  prepared 
the  barrels,  and  the  cautions  he  gave  the  other  men  to  be  careful 
and  not  bruise  the  apples.  After  spending  an  hour  in  the  orchard 
enjoying  an  interesting  conversation,  which  the  sight  of  the  beauti- 
ful fruit  suggested,  we  returned  to  the  house. 

The  children  were  playing  a  curious  game  on  the  lawn,  near  the 
garden.  As  we  drew  nearer,  I  discovered  what  it  was.  They  had 
driven  a  stake  down  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  on  which  a  shawl 
had  been  thrown,  and  the  company  were  trying,  one  at  a  time,  to 
see  who  could  walk  to  it  blindfolded.  Each  one  thought  he  could 
do  better  than  his  predecessor,  until  he  had  tried.  One  boy,  stepping 
off,  as  he  supposed,  in  the  proper  direction,  turned  a  somerset  over  a 
hencoop.  Another  one  started,  and  brought  up  against  the  pump. 
A  little  girl  begged  to  try,  and  finished  her  journey  in  a  currant-bush. 

I  was  escorted  to  the  cars  by  the  whole  party,  receiving  many 
invitations  to  "  come  again."  As  the  cars  whistled  away,  I  heard 
their  "  Good-byes"  growing  fainter  and  fainter. 

After  reaching  my  home  in  the  evening,  I  distributed  a  part  of  the 
basket  of  pears  and  grapes,  they  had  insisted  on  my  taking,  to  some 
little  Forresters,  who  believed,  readily,  that  their  grandfather  had 
"  hud  a  trood  time." 


IRON    MINIS 


267 


Iron  Mines. 

aRon  is  by  far  the  most  useful  of  all  metals  witn  wn.-ich  we  are 
acquainted.  Perhaps  I  might  properly  say,  also,  the  most  valuable, 
for  how  indispensable  we  find  it  in  almost  every  kind  of  labor.  Gold 
and  diamonds  are  very  scarce ;  and,  being  very  beautiful  ornaments 
to  the  person,  they  are  consequently  purchased  only  at  high  prices; 
but  of  what  real  use  are  they  ?  Diamonds  will  cut  glass,  and  the 
diamond  powder  is  useful  to  polish  with ;  gold  forms  a  good  cur- 
rency, and  is  used  in  some  other  unimportant  ways,  and  this  is  all 
the  real  value  there  is  to  them.  But  iron,  which  is  found  in  great 
abundance  in  almost  all  countries,  is  far  more  valuable  than  both 
together.  Look  around  you  and  find  a  single  article  in  or  about  the 
manufacture  of  which  iron  was  not  used.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  how 
we  should  manage  to  get  along  without  iron.  Where  there  is  no 
iron,  there  could  be  no  tools ;  no  arts  could  be  carried  on  success- 
fully without  it,  nor  could  the  sciences  exist  or  the  cultivation  of  the 
mind.  In  fact,  the  use  of  iron  is  the  first  step  towards  civilization. 
Where  it  is  unknown,  the  people  are  savages,  and  so  they  must  re- 
main. The  rusty  brown  stones  which  constitute  the  ore  of  iron  do 
not  seem  to  promise  much  of  value,  either  as  to  beauty  or  usefulness. 
But  the  ingenuity  of  man  has  found  out  the  means  of  making  them 
of  great  importance,  by  drawing  iron  from  them,  and  again  refining 
that  into  steel. 

There  are  various  modes  of  obtaining  the  ore  from  iron,  practised 
in  different  countries,  though  in  general  it  is  the  same.  In  England, 
the  brown  stones  containing  the  iron  are  roasted,  which  brings  them 
into  a  state  which  renders  their  fusion  a  much  easier  and  more  certain 
operation,  by  expelling  the  sulphur  or  the  arsenic  which  abounds  in 
them  in  their  mineral  state.  The  ore  is  then  brought  to  the  smelting 
furnace,  a  huge  oven,  shaped  somewhat  like  a  cone,  into  which  the 
workmen  throw  in,  alternately,  baskets  of  coal  and  baskets  of  ore. 
The  coal  is  then  ignited,  and  in  the  space  of  about  two  hours  the 
melted  metal  begins  to  settle  to  the  bottom,  .t  is  then  .et  out  into 
channels  formed  in  the  sand,  which  lead  it  into  hollows  formed  also 
m  sand,  and  here  it  settles  and  cools.     It  is  then  called  pig  iron. 

Great  quantities  of  iron  are  annually  brought  from  Russia.     The 


26S 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


most  valuable  mines  are  in  the  Ural  Mountains,  which  separate 
Europe  and  Asia.  There  are  above  a  hundred  founderies  here,  more 
than  half  of  which  are  for  iron,  and  the  remainder  for  copper.  The 
peasants,  as  is  common  in  Russia,  belong  to  the  estate,  whether  pri- 
vate persons  own  the  land,  or  the  sovereign.  Almost  a  hundred 
thousand  of  them  work  in  these  mines.  They  raise  nearly  one  hun- 
dred thousand  tons'  weight  of  iron  annually. 

Sweden  also  has  numerous  iron  districts.  The  most  important 
of  her  iron-mines  is  at  Dannemora.  These  were  discovered  in  1488. 
The  opening  of  the  mine  is  of  great  extent,  and  in  it  are  twelve  pits, 
in  which  mining  operations  are  carried  on.  The  descent  into  them 
is  by  means  of  baskets,  or  buckets,  each  attached  to  a  rope  which 
passes  over  a  pulley.     A  traveller,  speaking  of  this  descent,  says  : 


^^i^^-f^;:' 


"  The  inspector  of  the  mines  accompanied  me ;  I  was  accommodated 
with  a  c  lair,  but  he  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  bucket,  extend- 
ing his  legs,  in  order  to  maintain  the  balance.  He  had  a  stick  in  his 
hand,  with  which  he  occasionally  pushed  off  from  the  edges  of  the 
rock  when  we  were  in  danger  of  striking  against  them.  We  were 
above  five  minutes  in  making  this  perilous  journey.  The  distance 
descended  was  five  hundred  feet.     I  did  not  dare  to  look  down,  so 


IRON    MINES. 


269 


frightful  was  the  prospect.  About  half  way  down,  we  met  a  bucket 
ascending,  with  three  girls  in  it,  who  manifested  no  fears  whatever.** 
The  length  of  these  pits,  adding  them 
j  together,  is  abo.ut  eight  hundred  feet ;  the 
breadth  varies  from  three  to  twelve,  and  the 
greatest  depth  six  hundred  feet.  This  mine 
furnishes  iron  in  high  repute,  as  being  the 
finest  in  the  world.  The  ore  is  dug  in  sum- 
mer, and  laid  in  heaps ;  in  winter  it  is  re- 
moved, on  sledges,  to  the  forges.  The 
richest  ore  yields  seventy  parts  in  a  hun- 
dred pure  iron;  the  poorest  not  half  as 
much. 

The  operation  of  smelting  is  performed 
here  much  as  in  other  places.    One  remark- 
able particular,  recorded  by  another  travel- 
ler, is  the  manner  of  obtaining  the  ore  out 
of  the  rock.     It  is  not  dug  out,  as  is  com- 
monly the  case,  but  blown  out  by  gunpow- 
der.    This  operation  takes  place  every  day 
at  twelve  o'clock,  and  is  a  most  tremen- 
Descent  to  Presbey  Mines.        dous  business.    The  explosion  reverberates 
among  the  hollow  windings  of  the  mine  like  subterraneous  thunders. 
The  stones  are  thrown  up,  as  by  a  volcano,  to  a  great  height  in  the 
air ;  and  the  concussion  shakes  the  earth  all  around. 

This  traveller  descended  also  into  the  mine  by  the  same  sort  of 
dangerous  conveyance  as  the  one  just  mentioned  ;  and  he  owns  that 
he  shuddered,  and  half  repented  his  curiosity ;  for  in  him  it  was 
nothing  better.  He  was  nine  minutes  in  a  state  of  suspension  before 
he  reached  the  bottom.  The  view  of  the  mine  he  describes  as 
awfully  grand.  Daylight  was  very  faint  at  these  depths  ;  into  many 
parts  it  could  not  penetrate ;  and  they  were  obliged  to  use  flambeaux. 
Frames  of  wood  were  stretched  from  side  to  side  of  the  rock  in  so^ne 
places ;  and  in  these,  men  were  sitting  astride  at  great  heights,  bor- 
ing holes  for  the  next  blasting.  Though  the  weather  was  warm  at 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  yet  amid  these  dark  brown  caves  it  was  cold. 
In  one  of  these  caverns  under  *he  rock  was  a  charcoal  fire,  around 


270  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

which  were  eight  miserable  looking  creatures,  eating  their  meal  and 
warming  themselves. 

To  convert  iron  into  steel,  of  which  cutlery  is  made,  nothing  more 
is  necessary  than  to  heat  good  pure  iron  in  a  proper  furnace  with 
charcoal,  oi  with  any  substance  capable  of  furnishing  a  sufficient 
quantity  o'    %rbon^  which  is  absorbed  by  the  iron  in  the  process. 


The  Child  and  the  Brook. 

BY    NILLA   FORRESTER. 

'  Where  did  you  come  froml  say,  pretty  brook, 
And  whither  away  so  fasti" 
Asked  a  thoughtful  child  of  a  babbling  brook. 
As  it  leaped  in  gladness  past. 

'  Ah,  ha,  little  girl,  my  mother-spring 
Is  upon  the  mountain-side  ; 
I  leaped  from  her  lap  like  a  truant  boy. 
And  down  through  the  hills  I  glide." 

•  But  what  is  your  hurry?  please  tarry  a  while, 
Just  up  in  this  flowery  nook ; 
Where  violets  cluster  blue  as  the  skies  —  " 
"  I  can't,"  says  the  hurrying  brook  ! 

"  Fie,  fie,  naughty  brook !  just  linger,  I  pray, 
And  chat  a  few  moments  with  me !" 

*•  I  can't,  little  girl ;  I  'm  quite  out  of  breath, 
In  running  to  reach  the  sea!  " 

**  But  what  is  the  song  you  sing,  pretty  brook, 

You  sing  so  pretty  and  sweet!" 
*'  The  song,  little  girl,  is  the  holiday  song 

Of  the  pebbles  beneath  my  feet." 

**  No  one  will  miss  you,  I  'm  sure,  pretty  brook 
There  is  nothing  for  you  to  do !" 

"Nothing  for  me?  ha,  ha,  little  girl, 
There  is  more  for  me  than  you. 


KA   HELU    IN    THE    SANDWICH    ISLANDS.  271 

**  The  flowers  are  drooping:,  down  in  the  glen, 
And  long  to  see  me  appear  ; 
They  hang  their  heada  on  their  withering  stalks. 
While  I  am  loitering  here. 

"  And  I  turn  the  mill,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
Brimfull  of  frolic  and  gtee  ; 
Then  how  can  I  stay  ?     I  must  hurry  away, 
For  the  miller  is  waiting  for  me. 

'  The  flocks  and  the  herds,  and  the  beautiful  birds, 

Bend  to  my  sparkling  tide ; 
And,  darting  about,  the  sly  little  trout 
Beneath  my  waters  glide.  ''^ 

"  GooQ  by,  little  girl,  I  have  tarried  too  long, 
To  chat  with  a  child  like  you ; 
I  must  run  to  the  sea,  full  of  frolic  and  glee, — 
You  see  I  have  something:  to  do." 


"Ka  Helu,"  in  the  Sandwich  Islands. 

By  the  kindness  of  some  friends,  whose  hospitality  w:e  have  cause 
long  to  remember,  we  are  permitted  to  look  over  and  make  some 
extracts  from,  what  to  us  is  a  very  novel  affair,  nothing  less  than 
our  old  familiar  ColburrCs  Arithmetic  translated  into  the  most 
unmeaning  gibberish  we  have  ever  yet  had  the  fortune  to  set  eyes 
on.  It  is  neither  Latin  nor  Greek,  but  the  tongue  of  the  Sandwich 
Islanders.  Wonder  how  long  you  boys  and  girls  would  be  in  "  get- 
ting to  the  head,"  if  your  promotion  depended  upon  answering  such 
questions :  —         * 

"  Ua  kuai  kekahi  kanaka  i  wahi  kaa,  he  17  dala,  uku  aku  la  hoi 
ia  9  dala  no  ka  hau  hou  ana,  a  kuai  hou  aku  la  ia  iua  kaa  la  i  ua 
dala  he  23,  chia  na  dala  i  poho  ?  " 

There,  that's  about  as  plain  as  "  dots  and  marks !"  Here  is  our 
good,  respectable  English  for  it. 

"  A  man  bought  a  sleigh  for  seventeen  dollars,  and  gave  nine  dol- 
lars to  have  it  repaired  and  painted ;  and  then  sold  it  for  twenty- 
tiiree  dollars ;  how  much  did  he  lose  by  the  bargain  ?  " 


272  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

We  have  had,  all  along,  some  onsiderable  confidence  in  our 
nbility  to  solve  mathematical  problems,  especially  in  Colburn's,  but 
here,  in  this  edition,  to  use  a  common  expression,  we  are  "  hard  up." 
How  a  class  of  cocoa-nut-fed  youngsters  must  look  reciting  the 
Multiplication  Table  affer  this  fashion,  or,  as  they  have  it,  Ka  Papa 
Hoonui  ! 

Elua     2  is  4,  Ekolii  3  is  9,  Aha     4  is  16, 

Elima  5  is  25,         Eono    6  is  86,         Ehiku  7  is  49, 

Enalu  8  is  64,         Eirva   9  is  81,         Umi  10  is  100. 

Suppose  they  were  to  repeat  together,  in  a  Yankee  school-room, 

the  table  of  Avoirdupois  weight :  would  n't  there  be  music  ?     Yo'» 

can  judge.     Here  it  is  : 

"  He  ana  kau  pouna  : 
*'  He  16  derama  1  ia  anneke. 

He  16  anneke  1  ia  pouna, 

^  He  28  pouna  1  ia  kuata  haneri  weta, 

He  33^  pouna  1  ia  kuati  pika, 

He  4  kuata  haneri  weta  1  ia  haneri  weta, 
4  kuata  pika  1  ia  pika  okoa, 

2  pika  1  ia  pauna. 

He  20  haneri  weta  1  ia  tona." 

We  have  heard,  before  now,  some  young  folks  say,  "Oh,  dear! 
I  can't  understand  fractions."     See  here  : 

"  0  ke  6  me  na  f-  he  ^  ia  no  ke  aha  ? "     "  Maloko  o  ka  ^  ehia  t\  ?  " 
One  more  easy  question  — 

"  Ua  haawiia  mai  ia  Robeta  na  keneta  9,  a*  kuai  aku  la  ia  i  2 
hapa  3  o  ia  mau  mea  chia  na  keneta  e  koe?" 

We  are  reminded,  by  the  probable  position  of  our  young  friend, 
of  a  stupid  fellow,  who  was  asked,  "  What  would  50  lbs.  of  beef 
come  to,  at  7  cents  a  pound,  and  half  of  it  fat  ?"    « 

He  said  he  could  do  the  sum  if  he  only  knew  what  rule  it  was 
done  by  ! 

If  any  one  of  our  readers  will  find  the  question  corresponding  to 
this  in  Colburn's,  and  send  us  the  answer,  he  or  she  shall  have  two 
dimes  credited  on  next  year's  subscription.     The  Jirst  one  has  it. 

This  little  book  gives  us  an  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  obstacles 
the  missionaries  have  had  to  contend  with      They  went  to  this  far- 


BEAUTIFUL VERY  BEAUTIFUL.  273 

ofTcounfry,  which  seems,  by  its  remote  position,  to  be  beyond  human 
sympathy,  and  found  a  well-formed  people  living  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  God,  amidst  the  greatest  abundance  and  plenty,  produced 
spontaneously  from  a  luxuriant  soil.  After  years  of  self-devotion 
and  self-sacrifice,  they  have  destroyed  the  superstitious  reverence  of 
the  Islanders  for  their  idols,  and  awakened  in  many  of  them  a  thirst 
for  knowledge,  which  this  book  is  one  of  a  series  to  gratify.  They 
found  there  no  written  language  ;  and  it  was  with  great  labor  that 
English  books  could  be  translated. 

Those  faithful  missionaries  have  done  wonders.  By  their  efforts, 
with  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  civilization  has  been  substiiuied  for 
savage  life ;  and,  where  once  multitudes  danced  around  heathen 
gods,  the  "  Great  Spirit,"  now,  has  many  faithful  worshippers. 


Beautiful— Very  Beautiful. 

Night  kissed  the  young  rose,  and  it  bent  softly  to  sleep.  And 
stars  shined  and  pure  dew-drops  fell  upon  its  blushing  bosom,  and 
watched  its  sweet  slumbers.  Morning  came  with  her  dancing 
breezes,  and  they  whispered  to  the  young  rose,  and  it  awoke  joyous 
and  smiling.  Lightly  it  danced  to  and  fro,  in  all  the  loveliness  of 
health  and  youthful  innocence. 

Then  came  tht  ardent  sun-god  sweeping  from  the  east,  and  he 
smote  the  young  rose  with  his  golden  shaft,  and  it  fainted.  Deserted 
and  almost  heart-broken,  it  dropped  to  the  dust  in  its  loneliness  and 
despair. 

Now  the  gentle  breeze  —  who  had  been  gamboling  over  the  sea, 
pushing  on  the  light  bark,  sweeping  over  hill  and  dale  —  by  the  neat 
cottage  and  the  still  brook  —  turning  the  old  mill,  fanning  the  fevered 
brow  of  disease,  and  tossing  the  curl  of  innocent  childhood  —  came 
tripping  along  on  her  errands  of  mercy  and  love  ;  and  when  she  saw 
the  young  rose  she  hastened  to  kiss  it,  and  fondly  bathed  its  forehead 
in  cool,  refreshing  showers,  and  the  young  rose  revived  —  looked  up, 
and  fiung  out  its  ruddy  arms  as  if  in  gratitude  to  embrace  the  kind 
breeze  ;  but  she  hurried  quickly  away  —  her  generous  task  was  per- 
formed ;  yet  not  without  reward,  for  she  soon  perceived  that  a 
18 


A.  W 


274  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

delicious  fragrance  had  been  poured  on  her  wings  by  the  grateful 
rose ;  and  the  kind  breeze  was  glad  in  her  heart,  and  went  away 
singing  through  the  trees. 

Thus  true  charity,  like  the  breeze  which  gathers  a  fragrance  from 
the  humble  flower  it  refreshes,  unconsciously  reaps  a  reward  in  the 
performance  of  its  offices  of  kindness  and  love,  which  steals  through 
the  heart  like  a  rich  perfume,  to  bless  and  to  cheer. 


Deceptions. 

Here  opens  an  extensive  field;  but  be  not  alarmed,  we  will  take 
but  a  short  walk  this  time.  There  are  many  ways  of  deceiving,  and 
there  are  many  deceivers ;  some  are  almost  harmless,  and  some  are 
iwfully  injurious. 

On  the  succeeding  page  we  give  a  picture  of  the  Automaton 
Chess  Player,  which  was,  for  a  while,  the  puzzle  and  wonder  of 
many  in  Europe  and  America.  There  was  a  vast  and  wonderful 
machinery  which  seemed  to  move  the  hands  of  this  artificial  man. 
Many  people  examined  the  machinery,  and,  as  they  could  find  no 
man  within,  or  anyplace  for  him,  they  almost  believed  that,  through 
some  mysterious  invention,  the  brains  of  this  wooden  man  was  made 
superior  to  their  own,  especially  in  a  game  of  chess. 

He  played  with  thousands  in  Europe  and  America,  and  in  the 
great  majority  of  cases  was  successful  with  even  the  most  distin- 
guished players.  There  was  an  amusing  incident  between  him  and 
Napoleon.  The  Emperor,  being  a  little  mischievous  as  well  as 
playful,  made  an  unlawful  move  ;  the  Automaton  gravely  shook  his 
head  and  replaced  the  man.  Things  went  well  for  a  little  while 
till  Napoleon  made  another  mis-move,  then  the  Automaton  indig- 
nantly swept  the  men  from  the  board,  and  refused  to  play  any  more. 

After  a  while  it  turned  out  that  there  was  a  very  small  man  con- 
cealed inside,  among  the  machinery.  The  man  in  charge  would 
open  one  side  of  the  machine,  and  then  the  other,  and  by  means  of 
some  ingenious  arrangement  the  man  would  succeed  in  escaping 
from  one  side  to  the  other.     When  all  was  ready  he  would  take  his 


DECEPTIONS. 


275 


position   50  that  he  could  see  the  chess-board,  and  talk  and  act 
through  the  Automaton.     The  only  mystery  now  is,  how  he  could 


so  long  avoid  deitection,  and  how  he  could  beat  the  greatest  chess* 
players  in  the  world. 


276  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


National   Monument   to   Washington. 

On  the  opposite  page  is  an  accurate  view  of  the  monument  to 
Washington,  now  being  erected  at  "Washington  city.  It  stands  on 
the  banks  of  the  Potomac  river,  west  of  the  capitol,  and  about  mid- 
way between  it  and  the  President's  house. 

The  most  prominent  and  imposing  object  of  the  proposed  colossal 
structure  will  be  the  obelisk  shaft,  rising  from  the  centre  to  the  height 
of  six  hundred  feet,  seventy  feet  square  at  the  base,  and  forty  at  the 
top.  Around  this  shaft,  elevated  on  a  terrace,  or  platform,  twenty 
feet  high  and  three  hundred  feet  square,  is  to  be  erected  a  vast  ro- 
tunda, supported  by  thirty  massive  columns,  of  twelve  feet  diameter, 
and  forty-five  feet  high  ;  enclosing  a  gallery  fifty  feet  wide,  sixty  feet 
high,  and  five  hundred  feet  in  circumference.  Above  the  colonnade 
will  be  an  entablature  twenty  feet  high,  surmounted  by  a  balustrade 
fifteen  feet  high,  making  an  elevation  of  one  hunlrel  feet  for  the  ro- 
tunda or  colonnaded  buildirg.  On  the  top,  over  the  great  g^.llery, 
and  enclosed  by  the  baiuslra''.p,  will  be  a  grand  terrace  around  the 
great  shaft,  seven  hundred  feet  in  circumference,  and  outside  of  the 
balustrade  a  walk  or  gallery  six  feet  wide,  and  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  in  circumference.  The  entnince  and  passage  to  the  grand  terrace 
will  be  by  means  of  a  railway,  of  easy  ascent,  encircling  the  great 
shaft. 

This  noble  monument  will  be  nearly  three  tir-.^s  as  high  as  that 
on  Bunker  Hill,  in  Charlestown.  Within  the  rotunda  it  is  designed 
to  place  niches  for  the  reception  of  statues  of  the  signers  of  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  ;  whose  memory,  as  well  as  that  of  the  il- 
lustrious Washington,  every  true-hearted  American  will  cherish  with 
affectionate  regard. 

The  view  from  the  top  of  this  structure,  Avhen  completed,  will  be 
grand  and  impressive.  Those  who  have  ascended  the  monument  on 
Bunker  Hill  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to  imagine  the  sublimity  of  the 
panorama.     I  am  inclined  to  think  others  will  not. 


THE    ANSWERING   BLOW.  277 

The  Answering  Blow. 

BY    NiLLA    FORRESTER. 

Why  is  your  cheek  so  flushed,  my  boy, 

And  why  is  y  ur  eye  cast  down?" 
'Why,  mother,  you  see,  that  Harrison  Gray 

Is  the  ugliest  boy  in  town  ! 
We  were  out  at  play  on  the  village-green ; 

I,  with  my  bat  and  ball. 
And  it  chanced  to  roll  where  Harry  stood, 

And  he,  like  a  clown,  must  fall ! 

"  And  what  do  you  think  he  said,  mammal  *  - 

Why,  I  did  it  on  purpose,  and  so 
He  struck  me  right  over  my  head,  mamma. 

But  I  answered  him  blow  for  blow. 
His  nose  just  bled  a  little,  and  now 

He  's  gone  like  a  cry-baby  home. 
To  make  a  complaint,  and  get  me  whipped  — 

You  will  see  what  a  tale  will  come  !" 

**  Oh,  William,  it  grieves  me  much,  to  hear  * 

A  story  like  this,  and  I " 

*'  But  you  see  he  struck  me  first,  mamma. 

And  he  's  a  bigger  boy  than  I ! 
I  am  sure  you  would  not  have  me  stand, 

A  coward,  afraid  to  strike  1 
Papa,  I  know,  would  do  as  I  did, 

If  a  man  should  serve  him  the  like  !" 

*'  But,  William,  'tis  wicked  to  quarrel  and  fight, 

And  cowardly,  bullying  boys 
Run  about,  with  their  fists  ready-doubled  for  blows, 

And  are  known  by  their  bluster  and  noise. 
True  courage  consists  in  restraining  the  blow, 

And  repressing  each  angry  tone ; 
'T  would  have  shamed  Harry  Gray  had  you  told  him  the  truth, 

And  manfully  et  him  alone." 

**  But,  mother,  le  gave  me  no  time  for  a  word, 

For  he  struck  ine  before  I  could  speak  ; 
I  meant  to  have  told,  but  the  first  thing  he  did  •, 

Was  to  strike  me  a  blow  on  the  cheek ! 


^78  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

I  am  sure,  there  is  no  one  would  like  to  stand. 

To  be  beat  like  a  dog-,  mamma  ; 
1  would  not  have  given  him  a  single  blow,  , 

But  he  struck  me  the  first,  mamma  !" 

"  You  have  seen  David  Rice !    When  a  boy  like  you, 

He  was  out  on  the  green  one  day  ; 
When  a  boy  much  larger,  and  stronger  than  he. 

Just  hit  him  a  blow  in  play. 
But  he  never  stopped  to  inquire  the  cause, 

For  his  temper  began  to  rise  ; 
So  he  raised  a  thistle  he  held  in  his  hand, 

And  struck  it  across  his  eyes. 

"  The  boy  that  David  so  hastily  struck. 

Shrieked  aloud  in  terrible  pain  ; 
And  the  surgeon  came  to  examine  his  eyes, 

But  his  skill  and  care  were  vain, 
For  the  light  went  out,  and  the  beautiful  day 

To  him  is  as  dark  as  the  night ; 
And  though  David  wept  like  a  penitent  boy, 

Yet  he  could  not  bring  back  the  sight. 

*'  Now,  William,  you  see  that  David  Rice 

Grew  warm  at  the  first  attack, 
And  thought,  because  he  struck  him  first, 

It  was  right  to  strike  him  back. 
Whene'er  you  are  tempted  to  quarrel  or  fight. 

Just  think  of  this  terrible  woe  ; 
And  remember  how  bitterly  David  hath  mourned 

The  result  of  his  answerino-  blow." 


'>i*:^i^f>^'''^^^^^^ 


SILVER    MINES. 


Silver  Mines. 


279 


In  the  year  1545,  an  Indian,  named  Hualpa,  was  scampering  up 
the  side  of  a  mountain  in  Potosi,  after  a  goat;  when,  finding  that 
it  had  jumped  up  a  steep  place  quicker  than  he  could,  and  deter- 
mining to  follow  it,  he  laid  hold  of  a  branch  of  a  shrub  to  assist  him 
in  climbing.  But  instead  of  assisting  him,  it  was  torn  up,  roots  and 
all,  out  of  the  earth.  He  was,  however,  repaid  for  his  disappoint- 
ment, by  the  appearance  of  something  hrij^ht  in  the  hole  that  the 
plant  had  come  from.  He  soon  discovered  this  to  be  a  lump  of  sil- 
ver; and  he  found  several  small  bits  sticking  about  the  roots.  These 
he  picked  off  carefully,  and  right  glad  was  he  to  have  found  such  a 
treasure.  For  a  time  he  kept  the  riiatter  a  secret,  and  returned  to 
the  mine  whenever  he  wanted  cash  ;  and  soon  grew  so  much  better 
in  his  circumstances  than  foriner'V,  that  his  neighbors  wondered  at 
it.  One  of  these  was  his  pnrticu'ar  friend  ;  so.  to  stop  his  inquiries, 
he  told  him  of  his  discovery,  and  showed  him  the  place;  and  they 
both  helped  themselves  to  as  much  as  they  happened  to  want.  By 
and  by  some  disagreement  arose  between  them,  because  Hualpa 
would  not  tell  how  he  purified  the  precious  metal,  and  then  this 
unworthy  friend  went  and  told  the  whole  to  a  Spaniard.  The  mine 
was  soon  taken  possession  of,  and  the  poor  Indians  got  no  more. 
This  mine  proved  vastly  productive,  and  a  town  was  soon  built  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain.  The  mine  is  in  a  mountain  by  itself,  like 
a  sugar-loaf  in  shape.  The  city  of  Potosi,  although  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain  seemingly,  is  high  up  in  the  Andes,  whose  white  tops, 
always  covered  with  snow,  glitter  at  a  few  miles'  distance.  The 
mountain  containing  the  silver  is  about  eighteen  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  seems  to  be  one  mass  of  clayey  slate,  yellowish  and 
hard.  The  miners  do  not  proceed  in  any  regular  or  scientific  man- 
ner, but  get  as  much  silver  as  they  can  obtain  easily.  Nojie  of  them 
have  yet  penetrated  above  seventy  j^ards,  though  there  are  more  than 
three  hundred  pits.  All  the  processes  for  roasting  or  refining  the 
ore  are  conducted  in  the  most  slovenly  manner  by  the  Indians,  who 
are  ignorant  of  tne  scientific  modes  of  operation.  A  great  deal  is 
wasted,  and  from  a  ton  of  ore  not  more  than  three  or  four  ounces  of 
silver  are  obtained.     Some  Germans  have  been  there  lately,  and 


280  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY 

they  are  showing  them  how  to  conduct  the  wor^s  in  a  better  nnan» 
ner. 

There  are  silver  mines  in  Mexico,  as  well  as  mines  of  gold.  In- 
deed, silver,  although  the  second  in  rank,  is  first  in  importance  in  a 
commercial  point  of  view,  on  account  of  the  much  greater  quantity 
obtained  from  the  mines. 

Silver,  as  is  the  case  indeed  with  most  other  metals,  is  found  in  a 
variety  of  different  ores.  It  is  sometimes  pure,  or  in  veins  which 
penetrate  every  crevice  of  the  stony  rock  to  which  the  metal  adheres; 
but,  more  frequently,  it  is  mixed  with  other  matters,  which  must  be 
separated  from  it;  so  that  its  first  appearance  varies  much,  as  it  is 
ash-colored,  reddish,  bluish,  often  black,  and  sometimes  in  pointed 
forms,  like  crystals. 

The  manner  of  refining  it  differs  but  little  from  the  processes  used 
with  gold;  except  that  none  is  obtained  by  mere  washing,  though  it 
is  cleared  from  earthy  particles  with  water.  The  workers  depend 
chiefly  upon  amalgamating  it  with  quicksilver;  but  in  this  case 
there  is  more  difficulty  than  with  gold  ;  as  silver  clings  more  power- 
fully to  the  mineral  substances  with  which  it  is  united,  and  the  pro- 
cess requires  more  labor  and  care. 

Silver  is  found  also  in  Norway,  Sweden,  and  in  great  abundance 
m  Siberia,  near  Chinese  Tartary ;  and  in  moderate  quantities  in 
many  other  countries.  It  forms,  as  you  know,  the  principal  part  of 
the  circulating  coins  of  all  countries,  being  a  medium  between  gold, 
which  is  very  valuable,  and  brass,  or  copper,  which  is  very  cheap. 
It  is  also  manufactured  into  many  varieties  of  table  ware,  and  con- 
siderably used  as  ornaments  to  carriages,  and  the  like. 


About  Railroads. 

In  building  a  railroad,  the  preliminary  trouble,  before  the  first  soQ 
IS  turned,  is  no  triflin-r  task.  Leaving  out  of  the  question  the 
visionary  schemes,  projected  for  the  purpose  of  gambling  or  specu- 
lation, let  us  consider  what  has  to  be  effected  before  a  railroad  can 
be  commenced. 

These  undertakings  generally  begin  with  a  few  individuals  inter- 
ested in  a  proposed  line.     A  meeting  is  called,  and  the  matter  is 


ABOUT   RAILROADS. 


281 


primarily  talked  over.  An  agent  is  appointed  to  visit  the  various 
towns  and  villages  upon  the  route,  and  to  hold  meetings  for  the 
information  of  every  individual.  Gradually,  the  people  become 
interested  with  the  idea,  and  the  various  newspapers  take  up  the 
subiect. 


When  the  road  has  been  fully  determined  on,  the  first  thing  to  be 
dune  is  to  ascertain  pretty  correctly  the  travel  and  traffic  between 
the  termini  and  along  the  line.  This  requires  great  care  and  atten- 
tion. Sometimes  one  or  more  men  are  stationed  by  day  and  nigiit. 
for  two  or  three  weeks,  to  count  all  vehicles  passing  a  given  number 
of  points  along  the  line.  The  number  of  passengers  is  also  noted, 
and  the  cause  of  any  increase  or  decrease  on  particular  days.  All 
this,  and  various  other  kinds  of  information  relative  to  the  subject,  is 
entered  in  a  book,  methodically  arranged,  and  from  this  book,  judi- 
cious, calculating  men  can  generally  estimate  what  the  traffic  will 
be. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  surveyor  or  engineer  is  busy  in  taking  the 
levels  of  the  country,  boring  to  discover  the  nature  of  the  strata  he 
may  have  to  cut  through,  and  preparing  a  rough  sketch  or  profile 
of  the  ground.  There  are  generally  two  or  three  lines  surveyed, 
and  from  these  the  best  is  selected. 

Matters  being  thus  far  proceeded  with,  an  act  of  incorporation,  or 
a  privilege  to  build  the  road,  must  be  obtained  from  the  State  Legis- 
lature. The  plans  are  prepared  and  laid  before  that  body,  and  if 
there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  work  will  prove  a  public 
benefit,  and  that  it  will  pay  its  stockholders  a  proper  return  for  their 
money,  a  charter  is  granted.     Subscriptions  to  the  capital  stock  are 


282  nCTuRIAL    MISCELLANY. 

then  opened  in  the  various  places  along  the  line,  so  that  all  may 
have  a  chance  to  help  the  work  along.  When  the  stock  is  taken 
up,  the  company  is  regularly  organized,  by  the  choice  of  president, 
directors,  and  other  officers,  and  then  the  work  commences  in 
earnest. 

The  engineer  has  by  this  time  made  his  estimates;  so  much  for 
tunnelling,  so  much  for  embankments,  for  bridges,  viaducts,  &c. 
The  principal  works  are  done  by  contract.  The  whole  line  is 
divided  into  sections  of  about  one  mile  each,  and  one  man  or  com- 
pany of  men,  for  instance,  will  contract  to  complete  the  grading  — 
that  is,  levelling  the  way,  filling  up  valleys  and  cutting  through 
ridges,  building  the  bridges,  &c.,  ready  for  the  rails  —  of  one  or 
more  sections.  These  are  again  let  out  to  sub-contractors,  who 
perhaps,  do  the  same  again.  Assessments  of  so  much  per  share  o( 
the  capital  stock  are  called  in  as  the  money  is  wanted,  and  so  the 
work  goes  on,  until  all  is  graded;  then  comes  the  party  to  lay  the 
rails,  and  now  the  road  is  ready.  Clerks  and  conductors  are 
appointed,  the  locomotives  are  placed  upon  the  line,  the  cars  are 
linked  together,  the  steam  is  up,  the  bell  rings,  the  engine  is  snort- 
ing and  whizzing  like  an  eager  steed,  and  finally  off  they  go.  The 
railroad  is  now  open,  and  the  vast  amount  of  money  that  has  bee)' 
expended  in  its  construction  begins  to  return  slowly  into  the  pocket> 
of  the  shareholders. 

The  progress  of  railroad  building  in  New  England,  since  it  com- 
menced, has  been  astonishing,  almost  beyond  belief.  The  first  train 
of  cars  ever  run  by  a  locomotive  was  on  the  seventeenth  of  April. 
1834;  about  twenty  years  ago.  Now  there  arc  mere  than  three 
thousand  miles  of  road  in  operation  in  New  England.  It  is  almoii^t 
incredible  that  people  twenty  years  since  were  conten<-ed  with  tlie 
slow  tumbling  old  stages;  but  so  it  is.  The  destiny  of  civilization  is 
onward,  higher  improvement ;  and  a  few  years  hence  we  shall  look 
back  upon  some  of  our  present  customs  and  habits  with  as  much 
wonder  as  we  now  do  upon  the  days  of  Uncle  Sam's  fast  "  MaiI' 
Coaches." 


*  *  If  those  vvho  cluster  round      i      Have  gentle  words  and  smiles 
The  altar  and  the  hearth,  |  How  beautiful  in  earth. 


ABCUT   KAILEOADSS. 


284  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

Our  Tommy,  or  the  Little  Errand-Boy. 

BY   NIL:.A   FORRESTER. 

I  AM  going  to  tell  you  a  story  aboit  our  Tommy.  Like  Sterne^ 
[  found  out  that  a  domestic  was  what  I  required,  and,  after  a  few 
days'  search,  a  funny  little  specimen  of  humanity  offered  his  ser- 
vices. I  scanned  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  looked  shrewd  and 
intelligent;  his  blue  eye  had  a  twinkle  in  it;  and  his  nose,  which 
was  of  an  undefined  order,  ranging  between  a  turn  up  and  a  pug, 
looked  as  though  it  might  speak,  if  it  would.  His  hair  nature  had 
intended  for  yellow,  but  constant  exposure  to  the  sun  had  bleached 
it  to  a  rusty  white.  He  did  not  appear  at  all  abashed  at  my  critical 
inspection,  for  his  eye  ran  round  the  room  scanning  the  furniture, 
and  then  came  back  to  fix  itself  on  me.  His  clothes  in  some  former 
year  might  have  been  a  fit,  but  now  a  good  length  of  leg  exposed 
itself  below  the  trowsers  ;  and  his  little  round,  fat  body  looked,  for 
all  the  world,  as  though  it  had  just  been  stuffed  for  a  pin-cushion! 

"  Who  sent  you  here,  my  little  fellow  ?"  I  asked,  questioning. 

"  Our  folks  heard  you  wanted  a  boy  to  run  arrants,  and  do  chores, 
and  mother  sent  me  up  to  try  it  a  spell." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Thomas  Jefferson  Marsh." 

*'  Ah,  indeed  !  then  I  have  a  second  edition  of  Jefferson  ?" 

Tommy  was  forthwith  installed  in  his  new  vocation,  and  his  busy 
.ittle  feet  pit-a-patted  to  and  fro,  and  up  and  down  the  house.  He 
was  what  foreigners  would  term  a  unique  Yankee  specimen.  Ran- 
sack New  England  from  Calais  to  Waterbury,  and  I  do  not  believe 
that  you  could  look  upon  his  like  !  Nimble  and  supple  as  a  cat,  he 
would  turn  somersets  about  the  yard,  stand  upon  his  head,  or, 
sticking  his  little  bare  toes  into  the  bark,  climb  a  cherry  tree  as 
quick  as  a  nionkey  a  rope  ladder;  and  swinging  himself  round  from 
limb  to  limb,  pick  and  sing,  as  merry  and  happy  as  the  birds  and 
squirrels  who  divided  the  cherries  with  him. 

Reverence  to  superiors  was  to  him  a  thing  unknown  ;  nature  had 
never  hinted  it;  and  education  had  not  as  yet  forced  upon  him  such 
an  unpleasant  impression.  Forever  out  of  sight  when  most  needed, 
all  day  long  our  lungs  were  in  exercise.     "Tommy/'  sounded  from 


THE     LITTLE     ERRAND-BOY.  285 

end  to  end  of  the  house  —  "Tommy,  where  are  you!"  After  a 
little  while  his  round  face  would  bob  through  the  doorway,  with  — 
"  Wasn't  it  you  a  yelling  arter  me  ?" 

No  fawning  menial !  no,  not  he  !  On  the  contrary,  he  was  an 
embodied  "  declaration  of  independence."  You  could  see  "  free 
and  equal,"  and  "  certain  inalienable  rights,"  looking  out  at  his 
eyes.  He  could  see  no  reason  why  he  should  n't  talk,  laugh,  sneeze, 
as  loud  as  any  other  mortal !  If  other  people  lounged  upon  the 
sofa,  why  should  not  he  ?  A  dozen  times  a  day  he  had  to  be 
reproved  for  some  such  misdemeanor ;  when  he  would  look  up  in 
my  face  with  the  most  perfect  amazement,  and  exclaim  — "  I 
thought  'twas  made  to  lay  on!  —  I  saw  you  on  it  t'other  arter- 
noon!"  No  method  of  reasoning  could  make  him  understand  our 
relative  position. 

Cleaning  knives  was  one  of  his  duties ;  but  they  often  run  about 
all  corners  of  the  house  and  yard,  in  the  process.  His  favorite 
position  was  the  gate-post;  there  he  would  sit,  rubbing  and  singing, 
and  taking  an  observation  up  and  down  the  road  at  the  same  time. 
Once,  when,  out  of  all  patience  at  his  remissness,  I  said  —  "  Tom- 
my, it  is  more  trouble  to  get  you  to  scour  the  knives  than  it  is  to  do 
it  myself,"  he  looked  up  with  the  most  imperturbable  gravity, 
answering  —  "Why  don't  you  do  it,  then  ?  "  He  had  no  intention 
of  impertinence !  He  knew  not  that  his  words  could  be  so  con- 
strued.    With  him,  it  was  simply  a  question  asking  a  reply. 

Always  good-natured,  one  could  not  have  the  heart  to  scold  him ; 
and  if  you  did,  ten  to  one  whether  he  would  realize  what  you  was 
aiming  at.  There  was  a  happy  unconsciousness  of  wrong  about 
him,  and,  at  heart,  he  was  nearer  right  than  most  of  us,  for  he 
always  looked  you  fair  in  the  face,  and  always  told  the  ivhole  truth 
with  downright  simplicity.  If  guilty  of  any  mischief,  his  frank  — 
"  I  done  it,"  half  excused  his  misdemeanor. 

One  trait  of  the  true  Yankee  he  had  in  perfection,  and  that  was 
curiosity.  Every  box  cover  must  rise  and  be  looked  under;  the 
very  doors  were  swung  back  and  forth  for  him  to  discover  where 
the  creak  was  put  in.  But  above  and  beyond  all,  men  and  women 
were  what  he  studied.  Not  alone  their  countenances,  but  their 
dress.     He  knew  the  color  of  the  frock  and  shawl,  and  whether  the 


286  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

gaiters  were  tipped  with  French  kid  or  patent  leather ;  and  watch 
seals  and  keys  were  to  him  especial  objects  of  attraction  and  admi- 
ration. With  open  ears  he  would  crouch  under  the  parlor  windows 
to  listen  to  the  conversation ;  and  one  day,  as  I  was  reading  Ten- 
nyson's "May  Queen,"  his  round  face,  like  a  full  moon,  rose  above 
the  window  sill,  and  his  interest  in  the  touching  story  got  the  better 
of  his  caution  —  "I  say  —  you!  couldn't  the  doctor  cure  her?" 
After  a  reproof  for  eaves-dropping,  which  he  bore  with  the  most 
perfect  ^^  sang  froid^''^  I  called  him  in  and  read  him  the  whole  of 
the  beautiful  poem,  and  never  did  a  poet  have  a  more  honest  or 
hearty  admirer. 

"  Well  now,  aint  that  are  pretty  ?  I  wish  you'd  give  me  a  copy 
of  them  ere  verses  when  I  go  home,  to  show  to  Mother  ?" 

I  have  not  time  to  tell  you  anything  more  about  Tommy  for  the 
present ;  one  of  these  days,  perhaps,  you  shall  hear  more  of  him. 


Little   Items   on  Important   Matters. 

The  Chinese  invented  gunpowder  about  the  time  of  our  Saviour 
and  used  it  in  cannon.  —  The  microscope  enables  us  to  detect  ani- 
malculge  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  an  inch  in  length. —  The  Royal 
Library  at  Paris  contains  a  Chinese  chart  of  the  heavens,  made  about 
six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  in  which  one  thousand  four  hun- 
dred and  sixty  stars  are  correctly  inserted. 

The  organ  was  invented  by  a  barber  of  Alexandria,  about  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago.  —  The  pianoforte  was  invented  in  London  by  a 
German,  about  seventy-five  years  ago.  —  The  first  voyage  around 
the  world  was  completed  in  fifteen  hundred  and  twenty-two.  —  The 
army  with  which  Napoleon  intended  to  invade  England  was  com* 
posed  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  soldiers,  ten  thousand 
horses,  seventeen  thousand  sailors,  and  a  fleet  of  thirteen  hundred 
vessels.  —  Napoleon  was  conquered  and  sent  into  exile,  but  he  said, 
"  When  I  am  dead,  my  spirit  will  be  in  the  hearts  of  the  French 
people,  like  thunder  in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  throb  with  cease- 
less life  in  new  revolutions." 


THE   BEAVEK. 


287 


The   Beaver. 


fne  beaver,  when  fully  grown,  does  not  exceed  two  feet  in  length, 
znd  scarcely  one  foot  in  height;  and,  in  general  appearance,  it  bears 
a  considerable  likeness  to  the  rat.  The  chief  exception  is  its  tail, 
which,  unlike  that  of  other  quadrupeds,  is  covered  with  scales.  The 
hair  of  the  animal  is  of  a  light  brown  color,  and  of  two  different  kinds 
—  short  and  long:  the  former  fine  and  silky,  the  latter  coarse.  The 
teeth  of  the  beaver  are  like  those  of  the  rat,  sharp  and  well-fitted  to 
cut  wood  —  a  qualification  of  no  small  value  to  the  animal,  as  will 
be  seen  hereafter.  Its  fur  is  so  much  esteemed,  and  commands  such 
a  price,  that  the  hunters  have  almost  destroyed  the  race  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  their  settlements,  and  they  are  now  found  only  in  the  less 
thickly  settled  regions  of  country,  and  principally  in  the  more  north- 
em  parts. 

The  sagacity  and  ingenuity  of  the  beaver  are  exhibited  in  its 
modes  cf  living,  and  in  the  construction  of  its  habitation.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  sociable  of  all  animals,  and,  in  the  beginning  of  sum- 
mer, large  numbers  assemble  to  form  themselves  into  a  community, 
and  to  establish  a  settlement,  or,  more  familiarly  speaking,  a  village. 

The  place  selected  for  their  home  is  always  upon  a  pond  or  river. 
The  latter  is  generally  preferred  by  them,  perhaps  because  it  affords 


283  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

them  peculiar  facilities  for  floating  the  timber  they  make  use  of  ir 
erecting  their  houses.  The  site  chosen,  —  let  us  suppose  that  it  is 
a  river  or  creek, — the  first  step  is  to  build  a  dam  across  the  stream, 
and  this  is  always  made  at  the  shallowest  part.  To  build,  they 
make  use  of  small  trees  and  the  branches  of  larger  ones,  which  they 
cut  down  w^ith  their  teeth  as  easily,  if  not  as  rapidly,  as  men  do  with 
a  saw.  If  a  large  tree  is  nigh  the  spot  where  the  dam  is  to  be  made, 
they  proceed  to  fell  it  across  the  stream;  and  having  done  this,  they 
trim  off  those  leaves  and  branches  which  are  in  the  way,  and  use 
them  as  occasion  demands.  It  is  an  exceedingly  curious  sight,  a 
community  of  beavers,  perhaps  two  hundred  in  number,  all  busily 
employed  in  this  work  of  building  a  dam  —  some  cutting  down  trees, 
others  floating  them  to  the  desired  spot,  and  others  again  twisting 
boughs  together  to  strengthen  the  work,  or  throwing  in  stones  and 
mud  to  effect  the  same  object.  When  they  have  adjusted  a  portion 
of  their  work,  they  hamm.er  it  hard  with  their  flat,  strong  tails. 
They  exhibit  great  ingenuity,  also,  in  adapting  the  shape  of  the  dam 
to  the  nature  of  the  current.  If  it  be  gentle,  they  build  straight 
across;  if  it  be  swift  or  violent,  they  make  a  considerable  curve, 
—  thus  proving  themselves  to  be  wise  builders. 

These  dams  are  so  strongly  built  that  they  last  for  many  years, 
and  remain  even  long  after  their  architects  have  disappeared.  A\''hen 
the  dam  is  completed  and  perfectly  tight,  the  whole  community  pro- 
ceed to  the  labor  of  house-building.  Their  habitations  are  built 
upon  the  edge  of  the  pond  created  by  the  dam,  and  are  sometimes 
three  stories  in  height.  The  walls  are  composed  of  sticks,  grass, 
mud  and  stones.  The  ends  of  sticks  and  logs  projecting  inward  are 
cut  off  by  the  animals,  and  used  as  material  to  carry  up  the  fabric. 
They  continually  hammer  the  work  with  their  tails.  Tieir  huts 
are  not  square,  but  rather  oval  in  shape.  The  rooms  all  connect 
with  each  other,  and  every  one  has  two  openings,  to  allow  of  entrance 
and  exit;  and  also  to  enable  the  beavers  to  remove  everything  that 
could  defile  their  houses,  for  they  are  as  clean  as  they  are  ingenious. 

It  takes  the  industrious  animals  most  of  the  summer  to  com- 
plete their  building  operations,  and  in  the  autumn  they  proceed  to 
gather  in  their  stores  for  the  winter.  These  stores  consist  of 
branches  of  trees  —  the  birch  and  other  varieties  —  which  they  soften 


THE    BEAVER.  289 

by  soaking  in  water,  and  thus  render  them  more  agreeable  to  their 
taste.  During  the  summer  they  luxuriate  on  plants  and  shrubs,  and 
the  green  young  limbs  of  trees. 

The  pond  is  indispensable  to  the  beaver,  for  it  is  an  amphibious 
animal  —  and,  although  its  fore  feet  are  like  those  of  other  four-foot- 
ed creatures,  its  hinder  ones  are  furnished  with  the  web,  which  en- 
ables it  to  swim  at  pleasure.  When  the  beaver  is  sporting  in  the 
water,  he  directs  his  course  by  the  capital  rudder  which  he  pos- 
sesses in  his  curious  and  useful  tail. 

In  the  cold  winters  of  the  north  the  beavers  seldom  leave  theii 
habitations,  except  to  search  for  green  food ;  and  the  hunters  often 
lure  them  out  with  this  tempting  bait. 

Not  to  add  to  this  account  Mary  Howitt's  beautiful  lines,  would 
be  unpardonable. 

Up  in  the  north,  if  thou  sail  with  me, 

A  wonderful  creature  I  '11  show  to  thee  ; 

As  gentle  and  mild  as  a  lamb  at  play,  ^ 

Skipping  about  in  the  month  of  May ; 

Yet  wise  as  any  old  learned  sage  ^./ 

Who  sits  turning  ever  a  musty  page. 

Come  down  to  this  lonely  river's  bank; 

See  driven-in  stake  and  riven  plank : 

'T  is  a  mighty  work  before  thee  stands, 

That  would  do  no  harm  to  human  hands ; 

A  well-built  dam  to  stem  the  tide 

Of  this  northern  river  so  long  and  wide. 

Look  !  the  woven  bough  of  many  a  tree, 

And  the  wall  of  fairest  masonry ; 

The  waters  cannot  o'erpass  this  bound, 

For  a  hundred  keen  eyes  watch  it  round  ; 

And  the  skill  that  raised  can  keep  it  good. 

And  yonder,  the  peaceful  creatures  dwell 

Secure  in  their  watery  citadel. 

They  know  no  sorrow,  have  done  no  sin ; 

Happy  they  live  'mong  kith  and  kin  — 

As  happy  as  living  things  can  be, 

Each  in  the  midst  of  his  family  ! 

Ay,  there  they  live,  and  the  hunter  wild, 

SeeinjT  their  social  natures  mild, 
19 


290  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

Seeing  how  they  were  kind  and  good, 

Hath  felt  his  stubborn  soul  subdued  ; 

And  the  very  sight  of  their  young  at  play 

Hath  put  his  hunter's  heart  away  : 

And  a  mood  of  pity  hath  o'er  him  crept, 

As  he  thought  of  his  own  dear  babes,  and  wept 

I  know  ye  are  but  the  beavers  small, 
Living  at  peace  in  your  own  mud  wall ; 
I  know  that  ye  have  no  books  to  teach 
The  lore  that  lies  within  your  reach ; 
^utwhat?     Five  thousand  years  ago 
Ye  knew  as  much  as  now  ye  know ; 
And  on  the  banks  of  streams  that  sprung 
Forth  when  the  earth  itself  was  young, 
Your  wondrous  works  were  formed  as  true ; 
For  the  All-Wise  instructed  you. 
But  man !  how  hath  he  pondered  on, 
Through  the  long  term  of  ages  gone ; 
And  many  a  cunning  book  hath  writ. 
Of  learning  deep,  and  subtle  wit; 
Hath  compassed  sea,  hath  compasseJ  land. 
Hath  built  up  towers  and  temples  grand. 
Hath  travelled  far  for  hidden  lore, 
And  known  what  was  not  known  of  yore  ; 
Yet  after  all,  though  wise  he  be. 
He  hath  no  better  skill  than  ye ! 


BiUy  Hgg. 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  Mr.  William  Egg's  ? "  said  I  one  morning 
(0  a  smart  shopman,  who  was  loitering  at  the  door  of  a  showy  hab- 
erdasher in  the  principal  street  of  a  town  in  Ireland,  in  which,  for  a 
few  months,  I  once  resided.  I  had  been  told  by  two  or  three  persons, 
that  Billy  Egg's  was  the  best  shop  in  the  place ;  for  that  he  being  a 
general  dealer  on  a  very  large  scale,  I  should  be  sure  to  get  "  every- 
thing in  the  world  there."  Moreover,  I  had  been  instructed  that  he 
sold  good  articles  at  a  cheap  rate,  and  being  a  stranger,  I  felt  truly 
glad  that  I  had  been  recommended  to  a  tradesman  on  whom  I  could 
confidently  rely.     "  Can  you  direct  me  to  Mr.  Egg's  ? "  I  repeated. 


BI'LLY    EGG.  291 

seeing  that  the  smart  shopman  was  so  much  o<"''upied  either  in  ad- 
miring his  Arindow  or  his  own  person,  that  he  had  not  at  first  attend- 
ed to  my  question. 

"  I  Ifnow  no  such  person,  ma'am,"  he  replied  rather  sharply ;  and 
as  I  now  perceived  that  the  house  bore  the  evidence  of  fresh  paint 
and  recent  alterations,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  smart  shopkeeper 
might  be  a  new  comer  and  ignorant  of  the  old  residents.  Nothing 
daunted,  I  next  entered  the  shop  of  a  neighboring  bookseller,  and  re- 
peated my  inquiries,  but  with  no  better  success.  I  then  made  my 
way  fo  that  of  a  milliner ;  and  though  a  young  girl,  who  was  busily 
engaged  at  her  needle,  looked  up  for  a  moment  with  an  arch  smile, 
and  then  turned  away,  as  I  plainly  perceived,  with  a  hearty  laugh, 
her  mistress  dismissed  me  with  the  expression  of  her  opinion,  "  that 
no  such  person  lived  in  that  town,  nor,  she  believed,  in  any  other." 
I  felt  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  the  girl  had  found  so  ludicrous 
in  my  simple  question,  and  wondered  if  my  repeated  disappoint- 
ments had  given  me  a  forlorn  air.  "  At  any  rate,"  thought  I,  "  this 
Mr.  Egg  is  not  so  generally  known  as  I  expected  to  find  him.  I  had 
better  walk  up  the  street,  and  try  if  I  can  discover  any  outward  indi- 
cations of  his  abode." 

I  spent  a  weary  half  hour  in  this  endeavor,  and  as  it  now  seemed 
evident  to  me  that  no  considerable  shop  could  belong  to  the  object 
of  my  search,  I  lowered  my  tone  in  addressing  an  old  apple-woman, 
who  sat  behind  a  table  covered  with  her  stores,  at  the  corner  of  the 
street.  "  Pray,  can  you  direct  me  to  Billy  Egg's  ?  "  I  asked,  drop- 
ping the  Mr.  altogether,  and  adopting  the  familiar  term  that  had 
been  used  to  me. 

"  Och,  then,  to  be  sure  I  will,  an'  welcome,  if  it  was  a  mile  off; 
but  there  it  is,  just  furnint  you  —  that  big,  grand  shop  there,  wid  de 
big  letthers  gilt  wid  goold  over  de  big  windees." 

"  My  good  woman,"  I  replied,  •'  I  'm  afraid  you  must  be  mistaken ; 
the  name  there  is  William  Carter." 

"Och,  don't  I  know  that?  but  they  call  him  Billy  Egg,  because 
all  he  has,  and  it's  half  the  town  that  is  his,  came  out  of  an  egg." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  escaped  me,  and  the  old  woman  con- 
tinued, "  Och,  but  well  he  deserves  it,  for  he  is  a  dacent  man,  and 
good  to  the  poor,  God  bless  him  every  day  he  rises,  and  make  the 
heavens  his  bed  at  last." 


292  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

As  I  took  part  of  her  speech  as  a  hint  to  myself,  I  gave  her  six- 
pence, and  believing  there  was  some  story  worth  the  hearing,  I 
begged  my  new  acquaintance  to  call  on  me  in  the  evening  and  re- 
late it,  instead  of  hindering  her  business  and  mine  by  listening  to  it 
at  that  moment ;  aUhough  I  suspect  she  would  have  been  nothing 
loth  to  have  given  me  the  full  and  particular  account  there  and  then, 
for  she  told  me  she  knew  every  circumstance  "  concarning  him  and 
his." 

I  proceeded  without  further  delay  to  the  "  big,  grand  shop,"  where 
I  saw  in  the  master  the  veritable  Billy  Egg.  He  was  a  fine,  portly 
personage,  with  a  good  open  countenance,  and  it  was  evident  he 
could  not  have  acquired  his  nickname  from  bearing  even  the  most 
remote  resemblance  to  an  egg.  He  served  me  himself  with  zeal  and 
civility,  and  my  purchases  were  soon  completed. 

In  the  evening  my  old  apple-woman  was  true  to  her  appointment, 
and  from  her  I  gathered  the  following  particulars :  —  William  Car- 
ter was  a  poor  boy,  the  eldest  of  a  large  family,  who,  with  their 
mother,  were  left  destitute  by  the  death  of  their  father.  Their  poor 
neighbors  were  charitable,  as  the  poor,  to  their  credit  be  it  spoken,  so 
often  are ;  and  one  took  one  child,  and  one  another,  until  something 
could  be  thought  of  and  done  for  their  subsistence.  William  had 
made  the  most  of  the  scanty  schooling  his  father  had  afforded  him, 
and  could  read  a  little.  He  was,  moreover,  a  steady,  hardworking 
boy ;  yet  the  only  occupation  he  was  able  to  obtain  was  that  of  tend- 
ing a  cow  on  the  border  of  a  large  bog.  In  return  for  this  service, 
he  was  comfortably  lodged  and  fed,  and  for  a  time  the  clothes  he  had 
were  sufficient.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  saving  any  scraps  of  printed 
paper,  which  fell  in  his  way,  and  by  means  of  these  he  somewhat 
improved  in  his  reading ;  for  while  the  cow  was  munching  away, 
little  Billy  had  ample  time  for  his  studies,  without  neglecting  her 
either,  for  he  made  it  a  point  of  looking  out  for  the  sweetest  grass, 
and  leading  her  to  it. 

By  his  care  and  attention,  he  gave  such  satisfaction  to  his  em- 
ployer, that  by  the  time  his  clothes  were  worn  out,  he  was  allowed 
wages  sufficient  to  replenish  them ;  and  his  good  behavior  gave  such 
confidence  and  respectability  to  his  family,  that  a  neighboring  far- 
mer engaged  one  of  his  younger  brothers  in  a  capacity  similar  to  his 


BILLY    EGG.  293 

own.  One  day  this  farmer  gave  Billy  a  newly  laid  goose's  egg, 
thinking  it  might  make  him  a  good  meal,  and  be  something  of  a 
dainty,  and  as  a  sort  of  return  for  an  act  of  good  nature  and  watch- 
fulness on  Billy's  part ;  he,  having  noticed  that  a  certain  gate  lead- 
ing to  the  kitchen  garden  had  been  left  open,  took  the  precaution  to 
close  it,  thereby  preventing  the  incursion  of  a  greedy  sow  and  her 
interesting  family,  which  undoubtedly  would  have  played  the  part 
of  the  Goths  in  that  flourishing  spot.  It  is  very  likely  that  Billy's 
first  impulse  was  to  boil  the  egg  and  eat  it ;  but  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion convinced  him  that  such  conduct  would  be  very  like  that  of 
the  boy  in  the  fable  who  slaughtered  the  goose  that  laid  golden  eggs. 
But  how  to  hatch  his  egg,  for  this  was  what  he  thought  of,  became 
now  the  question.  The  good  woman  of  the  house  noticed  that  Billy 
was  unusually  silent  at  supper,  and  thought  at  first  that  some  disas- 
ter must  have  happened.  She  learned,  however,  that  the  cow  had 
her  bed  of  customary  soft  heather,  which  it  was  Billy's  pride  to  pick 
for  her,  and  had  been  as  carefully  attended  to  as  usual  in  every  par- 
ticular. We  ought  to  mention  that  Billy  was  a  great  favorite  with 
his  mistress  ;  and  perhaps  he  had  won  her  heart  by  the  care  and  at- 
tention he  bestowed  at  every  spare  moment  on  one  of  her  little  ones, 
who  was  a  very  sickly,  fretful  child,  but  who,  somehow  or  other, 
was  always  most  quickly  pacified  by  Billy.  She  soon  learned  the 
cause  of  his  thoughtful  silence,  and  kindly  offered  to  remove  two  or 
three  eggs  from  under  a  duck  which  was  then  sitting,  and  give  their 
place  to  her  cow-boy's  single  treasure.  This  was  the  foundation  of 
William  Carter's  fortune  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  both  the 
gift  of  the  egg,  and  the  opportunity  of  hatching  it,  he  owed  to  acts 
of  thoughtful  good  nature  on  his  own  part. 

In  due  time  the  gosling  appeared,  and  Billy  fed  it  from  his  own 
scanty  fare,  taking  it  with  him  when  he  was  herding.  By  Christ- 
mas it  became  a  large  fat  goose,  and  its  owner  was  ofTered  half  a 
crown  for  it.  But  he  had  a  higher  ambition  for  it  than  this,  and  he 
was  not  to  be  tempted  from  his  purpose  by  the  prospect  of  present 
gain.  The  following  spring  he  set  her  on  twelve  eggs,  which  she 
had  herself  produced,  and  by  and  by  twelve  goslings  appeared.  Our 
hero  was  now  obliged  to  exercise  some  ingenuity  in  finding  food  for 
so  large  a  family  of  dependents;  but  he  accomplished  his  end  by 


294  PICTORIAL   MISCELLAXY 

bartering  awt  y  three  of  them  in  exchange  for  permission  that  the  re- 
mainder should  feed  in  his  master's  yard  until  they  should  be  old 
enough  to  pick  up  their  subsistence  in  company  with  their  mother 
and  the  cow  upon  the  common,  and  indulge  in  swimming  there  in 
the  abundant  pools.  At  the  proper  time  he  sold  the  young  geese 
for  the  argest  sum  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life ;  for,  though  to  have 
kept  some  of  them  might  have  proved  an  additional  source  of  profit, 
he  knew  that  he  had  only  accommodation  for  one  to  hatch.  A  por- 
tion of  his  money  he  gave  to  his  mother,  but  he  placed  a  one  pound 
note  in  the  safe-keeping  of  his  kind  mistress,  and  when  spring  again 
came  round,  he  bought  a  year-old  heifer,  which  he  sent  to  graze  on 
the  mountains,  paying  a  small  sum,  the  remnant  of  his  money,  which 
he  had  reserved  for  this  purpose.  Old  goosy  again  presented  him 
with  young  ones,  the  sale  of  which  enabled  him  to  purchase  fodder 
for  his  cow,  when  she  was  sent  home  at  the  end  of  the  season. 
And  now  he  built  a  little  shed  for  her  with  fir  sticks  from  the  bog 
and  heather  sods,  so  that  perhaps  she  was  better  cared  for  than 
many  a  rich  man's  cow.  We  may  be  pretty  sure,  however,  thai 
Billy  never  neglected  his  master's  business  to  attend  to  his  private 
affairs,  or  he  and  his  wife  would  not  have  encouraged  him  in  his 
plans,  as  they  evidently  did.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  follow  the  de- 
tails of  the  good  fortune  of  the  industrious  little  fellow,  or  to  declare 
precisely  how  he  dealt  in  cows  and  geese.  It  may  be  enough  to  say, 
that  at  the  end  of  six  years  he  quitted  servitude,  a  richer  man  than 
ever  his  father  had  been,  on  which  occasion  he  presented  the  venera- 
ble goose  to  his  mother,  to  whose  necessities  and  comforts  he  had  for 
some  time  constantly  contributed.  So  soon  as  he  was  comfortably 
established  in  the  world,  he  married,  but  not  till  he  had  provided  a 
neat  cottage  for  his  parent,  who  had  the  happiness  to  enjoy  for  many 
years  the  prosperity  of  her  son,  and  who  lived  to  see  the  poor  cow- 
boy a  man  among  the  most  respected  and  esteemed  in  his  native 
country. 

"  And  so,  you  see,"  said  the  old  apple-woman  in  conclusion,  "  it 
is  a  foolish  thing  to  despise  small  beginnings.  Thrue  as  I  am  tell- 
ing it  ye,  this  is  how  Mr.  Carter  got  the  name  of  Billy  Egg  — 
though,  d'ye  s^e,  he  never  was  called  Billy  Goose  —  no,  never." 


THE    WHALE.  395 


The    Whale. 

The  '.vhale  belongs  to  that  class  o.  animals  denominated  cetacea; 
for,  ho\\ever  strange  it  may  appear  to  you,  and  however  at  variance 
it  may  be  with  your  general  ideas  of  tiiis  monster,  he  is  literally  an 
animal.  While  they  inhabit  the  mighty  deep,  and  in  various  other 
ways  resemble  fish,  yet  they  have  warm  blood,  and  breathe  the  air 
like  other  animals.  Like  the  seal,  to  which,  as  I  have  told  you, 
the  whale  bears  a  strong  resemblance,  they  can  remain  a  long  time 
under  the  water,  sometimes  even  an  hour,  yet  they  must  come  to 
the  surface,  or  they  would  die,  or  more  properly  speaking  be  drowned. 
Fish  have  cold  blood  and  gills,  and  you  cannot  drown  them.  The 
whale  has  no  gills  nor  anything  of  a  similar  nature. 

Formerly,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  exaggeration  in  regard  to  the 
size  of  whales,  some  writers  having  declared  that  they  frequently 
exceeded  two  hundred  feet  in  length.  Now  the  Greenland,  or  right 
whale,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  and  of  which  our  knowledge  is 
more  extended  than  of  any  other,  very  rarely  or  never  exceeds 
seventy-five  feet  in  length,  while  the  common  or  usual  size  for  a 
full-grown  whale  is  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet.  Scoresby,  an  eminent 
navigator  war;  personally  concerned  in  the  capture  of  three  hun- 


296  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

dred  and  fifty-two  of  these  animals,  not  one  of  which  exceeded 
sixty  feet  in  length.  The  sperm  whales  are  somewhat  larger, 
being  frequently  found  seventy-five  feet  in  length. 

The  usual  rate  at  which  a  whale  swims  is  about  three  or  four 
miles  an  hour.  They  are  capable  of  rushing  through  the  water,  in 
time  of  danger,  with  the  velocity  of  the  fastest  ship  under  sail,  and 
of  ascending  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  with  such  rapidity  as  to 
leap  entirely  out  of  the  water.  Sometimes  they  throw  themselves 
into  a  perpendicular  position,  with  their  heads  downwards,  and 
moving  their  tremendous  tails  on  high  in  the  air,  beat  the  water 
with  awful  violence,  which,  cracking  like  a  whip,  resounds  to  the 
distance  of  two  or  three  miles.  They  feed  upon  shrimps  and  minute 
crabs,  lobsters,  and  sea  snails,  which  they  gather  from  the  surface 
of  the  water  while  swimming. 

The  proceedings  in  capturing  the  whale  are  highly  interestmg. 
A  ship  of  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  tons  is  required,  and  a  crew 
of  fifty  men.  The  ships  generally  arrive  in  the  polar  seas  about  the 
end  of  April.  As  soon  as  they  reach  the  haunts  of  the  whale  the 
crew  must  be  every  moment  on  the  alert,  keeping  watch  day  and 
night.  The  instant  a  whale  is  seen  by  the  look-out,  he  gives  no 
tice  to  the  crew,  and  the  first  boat  is  put  off,  followed  immediately 
by  a  second.  Each  boat  has  a  harpooner  and  other  subordinate 
officers,  and  is  provided  with  an  immense  quantity  of  rope,  carefully 
coiled  and  stowed  away  in  various  parts  of  the  boat,  the  different  parts 
being  spliced  together  so  as  to  form  a  line  of  sometimes  a  mile  in 
length.  To  the  end  is  attached  the  harpoon.  The  boat  is  now 
rowed  towards  the  whale  with  the  greatest  possible  speed,  in  the 
deepest  silence,  cautiously  avoiding  giving  alarm ;  and  sometimes  a 
circuitous  route  is  adopted  in  order  to  approach  it  from  behind. 
Having  reached  within  a  few  yards,  the  harpooner  darts  his  instru- 
ment into  the  giant,  who,  in  the  surprise  and  agony  of  the  moment, 
makes  a  convulsive  efiort  to  escape.  This  is  the  moment  of  danger, 
for  the  boat  is  exposed  to  the  most  violent  blows  of  the  whale's  head 
and  fins,  and  still  more  of  its  tail,  which  sometimes  sweeps  the  air 
with  such  tremendous  fury,  that  both  boat  and  men  are  exposed  to 
a  common  destruction. 

T'he  moment  that  the  wounded  whale  disappears,  a  flag  is  dis- 


THE     WHALE.  297 

played  in  the  boat,  on  the  sight  of  which,  hose  on  the  watch  in  the 
ship  give  the  alarm  by  stamping  on  the  deck,  accompanied  by  the 
shout, "  A  fall !  a  fall !"  At  this  signal  the  sleeping  crew  are  aroused, 
jump  from  their  beds,  rush  upon  deck  with  their  clothes  tied  in  a 
string  in  their  hands,  and  crowd  into  the  boats,  intending  to  dress 
themselves  at  leisure. 

The  first  effort  of  the  whale  is  to  escape  from  the  boat  by  diving 
under  water,  and  the  greatest  care  is  necessary  that  the  line  to  which 
the  harpoon  is  attached  may  be  run  off  readily  along  with  him. 
Should  it  become  entangled  for  a  moment,  the  boat  would  be  drawn 
under  the  waves.  Sometimes,  however,  to  retard  its  motion,  a  turn 
of  the  rope  is  cast  around  a  kind  of  post,  called  the  bollard,  which 
is  fixed  near  the  stern  of  the  boat  for  that  purpose ;  and  such  is  the 
velocity  and  friction  of  the  line,  that  it  frequently  envelopes  the 
harpooner  in  smoke,  and  if  the  wood  were  not  frequently  wetted, 
it  would  set  fire  to  the  boat.  The  line  is  frequently  run  out  in 
eight  or  ten  minutes,  arid  its  end  is  then  attached  to  the  line  in  an- 
other boat,  and  even  that  of  a  third  is  sometimes  necessary.  When 
the  crew  of  a  boat  see  a  prospect  of  their  own  store  being  ex- 
hausted, they  make  signals  to  the  vessel  for  more,  for  if  none 
should  arrive  there  is  only  one  resource  left,  which  is  to  cut  the 
line  and  thus  lose  it,  fish  and  all. 

After  remaining  under  water  for  some  time,  the  whale  is  obliged 
to  return  to  the  surface  for  air.  On  his  appearance  all  the  boats 
hasten  towards  him,  and  each  harpooner  plunges  another  weapon 
into  his  back.  He  is  then  actively  plied  with  long,  sharp  lances, 
which  are  thrust  into  his  vitals;  and  at  length,  when  exhausted 
with  numerous  wounds,  he  indicates  the  approach  of  dissolution,, 
The  final  capture  is  sometimes  preceded  by  a  convulsive  and  awful 
struggle,  and  in  dying,  it  turns  over  on  its  side  or  back,  which  joy- 
ful circumstance  is  announced  by  three  loud  huzzas,  and  the  strik- 
ing of  the  flags.  No  time  is  lost  ere  the  tail  is  pierced  and  fastened 
with  ropes  to  the  boats,  which  drag  the  carcass  to  the  ship  an.idst 
shouts  of  triumph. 


298  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


An    Attractive    Picture. 

The  three  children  in  the  picture  were  named  Gustavus,  Herman, 
and  Annie.  Their  father  owned  a  large  estate,  and  they  went  forth 
one  day,  to  gather  flowers  in  his  fields.  They  were  very  happy  in 
their  sports,  because  they  loved  each  other,  and  each  sought  to  minis- 
ter to  the  enjoyment  of  the  others. 

After  playing  awhile,  they  agreed  to  separate,  and  to  collect  each 
one  a  bunch  of  favorite  flowers.  When  this  was  done,  they  met 
again  beneath  the  branches  of  a  noble  tree. 

"  I  have  chosen  the  violet,"  said  Gustavus,  "  because  it  is  fragrant 
and  modest."     And  he  gave  his  violets  to  Herman  and  Annie. 

"  I  have  chosep  the  lily,  because  it  is  the  emblem  of  innocence. 
I  love  it,  because  it  reminds  me  of  a  pure  heart,  and  of  the  love  of 
my  Father  in  Heaven,"  said  Herman,  and  he  gave  his  beautiful  lilies 
to  Gustavus  and  Annie. 

Annie  produced  a  bunch  of  forget-me-nots,  and  said,  "  I  have  cho- 
sen the  blue  forget-me-not,  because  it  is  the  flower  of  love  and  ten- 
derness." Then  Annie  gave  her  forget-me-nots  to  Gustavus  and 
Herman. 

After  this,  these  lovely  children  agreed  to  weave  their  flow- 
ers into  two  crowns,  which  they  carried  home  and  placed  on  the 
brows  of  their  father  and  mother.  This  affectionate  conduct  de- 
lighted their  parents;  and  thus  by  innocence  and  love  was  this 
family  made  happy  and  joyfuL 

How  strangely  seme  children's  conduct  would  contrast  with  this 
picture  of  love.  I  have  seen  brothers  and  sisters  who  lived  only  to 
tease  and  to  fret  each  other.  They  never  studied  each  other's  pleas- 
ure, but  each  looked  after  himself  alone.  Consequently  they  were 
all  miserable,  and  their  parents  were  made  unhappy.  Boys  and 
girls,  which  class  of  children  do  you  love  best  ?  If  the  former,  prove 
your  3incerity  by  trying  to  resemble  them. 


THE    YOUNG   MATHEMATICIAN 


299 


The   Young   Mathematician, 


Truman  Henry  Safford  was  born  in  Royalton,  Vermont,  in  the 
year  1836.  He  was  a  frail  and  delicate  infant,  and  but  for  the  pe- 
culiar tenderness  and  care  of  his  very  affectionate  and  skilful  moth- 
er, his  life  could  not  have  been  saved.  So  feeble  and  sickly  was  he  the 
first  year  of  his  life,  that  he  passed  most  of  its  nights  in  wakefulness 
and  weeping.  After  he  entered  upon  his  second  year  of  life,  his 
health  improved.  He  showed  more  vigor ;  and  seemed,  by  the  strong 
affection  he  exhibited,  to  be  desirous  of  repaying  in  love  the  toil  and 
care  which  had  cherished  his  doubtful  life. 

He  very  early  gave  evidence  that  his  mind  was  superior  to  that  of 
other  children.  He  was  always  asking  curious  questions.  When 
only  twenty  months  old,  he  learned  the  alphabet  from  blocks,  each 
of  which  had  a  letter  upon  it,  and  which  were  given  him  for  amuse- 


I" 


300  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

ment.  When  he  was  three  years  of  age  he  could  compute  the  time 
by  the  clock. 

About  this  time  he  was  sent  to  school.  His  teachers  were  puz- 
zled. They  had  never  seen  such  a  boy  to  learn.  One  Tuesday 
morning  they  placed  Adams'  New  Arithmetic  in  his  hands,  and  by 
Friday  evening  he  had  completed  all  the  sums  it  contained !  Such 
ciphering  as  this  by  a  child  was  truly  wonderful,  and  his  teachers 
could  only  look  on  and  wonder  what  it  meant. 

One  day,  when  in  the  sixth  year  of  his  age,  he  said  to  his 
mother  — 

'* Mother!  if  I  knew  how  many  rods  it  is  round  our  meadow, 
(his  father  was  a  farmer,)  I  could  tell  you  its  circumference  in  bar- 
ley-corns. 

liis  mother  not  knowing  the  size  of  the  field,  he  waited  until, 
his  father  came  in,  to  whom  he  made  the  same  remark.  His  fathe** 
replied  by  saying : 

"The  field  contains  1,040  rods." 

The  boy  thought  a  few  minutes,  and  without  using  a  slate  or  pencil 
of  any  kind,  answered  — 

"  Then  its  circumference  is  017,760  barley-corns  !  " 

You  will  certainly  think  tliis  a  wonderful  act  in  a  little  feeble  boy 
of  six  years  old. 

Before  Henry  was  nine  years  of  age,  he  could  multiply  four  figures 
by  four  figures  in  his  mind,  as  rapidly  as  it  could  be  done  on  the  slate 
by  a  good  arithmetician.  When  he  was  nine,  he  could  equal  the  cele- 
brated Zekaii  Colburn's  greatest  feat,  which  was  to  multiply  five 
figures  by  five  figures  mentally. 

Among  his  recreations  about^his  time,  was  t'mt  of  surveying  his 
father's  farm,  which  he  did  accurately,  aided  only  by  his  younger 
sister. 

Nor  was  his  power  to  acquire  confined  to  mathematics  alone.  His 
mind  grasped  all  kinds  of  knowledge  with  scarcely  any  effort.  He 
seemed  to  see  through  every  subject  to  whix;h  he  directed  his  at- 
tention. Hence  he  took  great  delight  in  a  copy  of"  Gregory's  Diction- 
ary of  the  Arts  and  Sciences "  which  was  obtained  for  him.  He 
soon  mastered  its  topics,  and  acquired  from  it  that  taste  for  the  higher 
mathematics  which  has  made  him  so  distinguished. 


THE    YOUNG   MATHEMATICIAN.  301 

One  day  he  went  to  his  father  and  said  : 

"  Father,  I  want  to  calculate  eclipses  and  to  make  an  alma- 
nac !  But  I  need  some  books  and  instruments.  Will  you  get  them 
for  me  ?  " 

His  father,  hardly  knowing  what  to  do  with  such  a  request,  put 
him  off.  But  Henry  persisted,  and  follx)wed  his  father  into  the  fields, 
begging  affectionately  and  earnestly  to  have  his  wishes  gratified. 
His  perseverance  won  the  victory.  His  indulgent  father  took  him 
to  Dartmouth  College,  in  New  Hampshire,  to  obtain  the  required 
books  and  instruments,  if  possible. 

On  arriving  in  sight  of  the  college,  young  Henry's  heart  beat  high 
with  enthusiasm  and  hope.  His  eyes  glistened  with  excitement, 
and  he  cried  out : 

"  O  there  is  the  college  !  There  are  the  books  !  There  are  the 
instruments ! " 

Having  secured  the  much  desired  books  and  instruments  at  Dart- 
mouth and  elsewhere,  our  little  mathematician  returned  home,  and 
proceeded  to  calculate  eclipses  with  all  the  skill  and  correctness  of  a 
learned  astronomer. 

In  1845,  before  he  was  ten  years  of  age,  he  did  what  no  child 
had  ever  done  before  him.  He  prepared  an  almanac !  How  sur- 
prising !  A  boy  only  nine  years  and  a  half  old  making  an  almanac ! 
The  next  year  he  calculated  four  more,  for  Vermont,  Boston,  Phila- 
delphia, and  Cincinnati.  They  were  done  with  remarkable  accu- 
racy. Lieut.  Maury,  to  whom  a  copy  was  sent,  wrote  that  his 
"  almanac  would  not  do  discredit  to  a  mathematician  of  mature  years. 
Young  Safford  is  a  prodigy;  I  have  never  heard  of  his  equal." 

There  is  one  very  striking  fact  about  these  almanac  cumulations. 
He  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  old  rules  for  making  them  ;  but  he 
made  new  rules  for  himself  by  which  he  very  materially  abridged  the 
labor  of  difficult  calculations.  He  was  several  days  in  making  one  of 
these  rules,  and  seemed  to  be  "in  a  sort  of  trance."  But  one 
morning  he  flew  down  stairs  in  his  night  dress,  seized  his  slate,  and 
exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  ecstasy  — 

"  0  father,  I  have  got  it  —  I  have  got  it !    It  comes  —  it  comes ! " 

I  have  not  space  to  write  you  all  the  details  of  Henry's  progress. 
But  his  rare  powers  continued  to  improve,  and  the  attention  of  learned 


302  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

men  was  called  to  him.  Professor  Dewey  examined  him  when  he 
was  nine  years  old,  and  was  astonished.  When  he  was  ten,  the 
Rev.  Henry  W.  Adams  examined  him  for  three  hours,  on  questions 
involving  the  higher  branches  of  mathematics,  and  was  amazed  at  his 
performances.  Among  some  arithmetical  questions,  Mr.  Adams  asked ; 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  many  seconds  old  I  was  last  March,  the 
twelfth  day,  Avhen  I  was  twenty-seven  years  old  ?  " 

In  an  instant  young  SafFord  replied : 

"  You  were  85,255,200  seconds  old." 

Another  sum  given  him  by  Mr.  Adams  to  perform  mentally,  was 
this  :  "  Multiply,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  in  your  head,  365,365,365, 
365,365,365  by  365,365,365,365,365,365  ! "  ^ 

According  to  his  common  habit  at  that  time,  Henry  flew  round  the 
room  like  a  top,  pulled  his  pantaloons  over  his  boots,  bit  his  hand, 
rolled  his  eyes  in  their  sockets,  and  seemed  to  be  in  an  agony  for  a 
minute,  when  he  said  : 

« 133,491,850,208,566,925,016,658,299,941,583,225!"  and  he 
added,  "  This  is  the  largest  sum  I  ever  did." 

An  account  of  this  examination  being  published,  the  attention  of. 
men  of  eminence  was  drawn  more  particularly  to  Henry's  wonder- 
ful powers.  The  result  was,  that  some  benevolent  gentlemen  of 
Boston  offered  to  provide  for  the  residence  of  Henry  and  his  par- 
ents at  Cambridge,  and  for  his  education  at  the  university.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  1846,  the  whole  family  removed  to  a  pleasant  locality 
about  two  miles  from  Cambridge  University.  Since  that  time,  Hen- 
ry has  pursued  his  studies  under  the  direction  of  Messrs.  Everett 
and  Pierce,  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  injure  his  very  delicate  health. 
Under  their  judicious  instruction,  his  mind  has  continued  to  unfold 
its  marvellous  powers ;  he  has  mastered  the  most  difficult  branches 
of  the  higher  mathematics,  and  made  rapid  advances  in  other  branch- 
es of  knowledge.  His  health  has  improved,  and,  in  all  probability, 
he  will  live  to  be  a  man,  and  to  realize  the  high  promise  of  his  child- 
hood in  the  quiet  walks  of  scholastic  life.  What  he  will  accomplish 
for  science  cannot  of  course  be  foretold.  But  that  he  will  add  ma- 
terially to  its  treasures,  especially  in  his  favorite  branch  —  the 
mathematics  —  there  is  little  doubt. 

One  thing  is  worthy  of  remark  and  admiration  in  Henry.     He  is 


JOHNNY  LEONAKD  AND  HIS  MOTHER.  303 

not  lifted  up  because  God  has  given  him  such  great  powers.  This 
trait  in  his  character  is  very  beautiful ;  and  I  hope  my  readers  will 
all  try  to  imitate  it,  and  never  be  proud  of  any  thing  in  which  they 
may  seem  to  be  superior  to  others. 


^  [The  following  narrative  is  very  interesting  and  strictly  truthful. 
It  was  written  by  a  lady  of  my  acquaintance,  who  was  residing  at  a 
hotel  in  this  city.] 

Johnny  Leonard  and  his  Mother. 

At  the  close  of  one  of  the  coldest  days  in  the  winter  of  1835,  an 
old  lady  called  at  our  house  to  pass  the  night.  She  had  come,  that 
day,  from  B ,  in  the  southern  part  of  this  state  —  was  cold,  fa- 
tigued and  hungry,  having  tasted  no  food  since  she  left  her  own  des- 
olate home. 

Upon  entering  the  room,  I  was  attracted  by  her  appearance.  Six- 
ty-five years  could  scarcely  have  told  the  length  of  her  life's  pilgrim- 
age, yet  she  seemed  afflicted  with  few  of  the  infirmities  usually 
attendant  upon  such  age.  Her  dress,  somewhat  fanciful,  was  of 
Scotch  plaid,  and  the  large,  bright  checks  of  scarlet,  green  and  black, 
made  rather  an  unbecoming  contrast  with  the  deep  traces  that  time 
had  graven  on  her  face  ;  her  little  starched  cap,  in  full  trim,  set 
daintily  up  ;  and  the  high-heeled  shoes  which  she  had  slipped  from 
her  feet  were  lying,  toe  to  toe,  at  pradent  distance  from  the  fire  ;  all 
seemed  the  carefully  preserved  relics  of  former  taste  and  years. 

As  she  drew  up  her  small  figure  more  erectly  in  the  chair,  and 
glanced  her  black  eyes  familiarly  round  the  apartment,  I  thought  I 
had  never  seen  the  face  of  years  so  bright  with  animation ;  as  if  she 
had  either  never  known  the  many  disappointments  allotted  for  the 
threescore  years  and  ten  —  or  that  such  trials  had  been  happily  for- 
gotten ;  her  whole  countenance,  indeed,  indicated  that  she  had  just 
set  out  in  life  with  new  hopes,  new  joys. 

After  she  had  taken  supper,  I  drew  my  seat  towards  her,  and  she 
soon  revealed  to  me  the  following  simple  story.  I  will  endeavor  to 
*  tell  the  tale  as  'twas  told  to  me." 


304  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

"  In  the  northern  part  of  the  State  of  Maine,  in  the  small  town  of 
-,  I  lived  many  years  with  my  husband.    We  had  no  family,  and 


hard  work  enough  it  was,  upon  a  poor  farm  which  scarcely  paid  for 
tilling,  to  get  an  honest  livelihood. 

"  My  husband  was  always  poor,  and  almost  always  unfortunate. 
I  would  not  be  ungrateful,  but  Providence  did  not  smile  upon  him, 
so  we  almost  thought,  as  upon  those  who  needed  his  smiles  much 
less.  Yet  I  can  now  look  back  and  see  it  was  all  for  the  best.  I 
was  not  a  Christian  then,  though  my  husband  was.  His  health  was 
very  poor,  and  with  an  aching  heart  I  have  often  watched  him  from 
the  window  of  our  home,  raking  the  scanty  hay,  or  hoeing  the  sandy 
loam.  I  've  seen  him  lean  upon  some  tree  to  wipe  the  sweat  from 
his  pale  forehead,  and  his  wearied  arms  would  fall  heavily  beside  his 
trembling  body.  And  sometimes,  as  he  came  in,  he  would  say,  "  If 
it  were  not  for  you,  Nelly,  and  the  baby  which  Heaven  has  given 
us,  how  glad  I  should  be  to  go  to  my  rest  —  or  if  it  might  please 
him  to  call  us  all  together  ! ' 

"  But  such  was  not  His  will.  Ere  our  baby  had  passed  its  first 
year,  my  husband  did  go  to  his  rest.  He  left  me  peaceful  in  God,  yet 
'  sorrowing'  as  he  said,  '  for  the  lonely  walk  which  might  be  mine,' 
— and  oh,  how  lonely  it  has  been  !  — '  before  we  should  sit  dovirn  to- 
gether in  our  Father's  kingdom.' 

"  Six  years  I  struggled  on  with  my  little  boy,  desiring  nothing  for 
myself,  but  much  for  him  ;  and  a  brighter  lad  than  John  you  never 
saw.  But  my  health  failed  at  last,  and  unable  longer  to  maintain  us 
both,  I  concluded  to  put  him  out  to  work  as  well  as  he  could,  (and 
he  was  quite  handy,)  to  some  farmer. 

"  For  some  time  I  heard  of  no  one  who  would  take  so  young  a 
boy.  At  length  Mr.  'Lijah  Baker,  a  miller,  happened  in  the  place 
on  business,  who  lived  about  fifteen  miles  from  there  ;  hearing  of 
me,  he  called  where  I  was,  and  agreed  to  take  Johnny  home  with 
him.  As  he  had  never  been  to  school  any,  Mr.  Baker  promised  to 
send  him  three  months  of  the  year,  till  he  was  ten  years  old,  on  con- 
dition that  till  then  I  would  furnish  him  with  a  new  hat  and  pair  of 
shoes  once  a  year. 

"I  could  have  but  little  information  of  the  man's  character,  yet, as 
ft  was  the  only  way  before  me.  I  consented  to  let  him  go. 


JOHNNY    LEONARD    AND    HIS  JMOTHER.  305 

"  Bitter  was  the  hour  of  our  parting.  He  had  always  been  a  good 
boy,  and  was  all  the  world  to  me  —  my  daily  companion,  my  only, 
affectionate  little  son.  Now  in  his  clean  clothes,  his  light  glossy 
hair  parted  and  brushed  one  side  —  though  his  round  blue  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  yet  he  never  looked  so  well,  or  seemed  so  dear  to  me  be* 
fore.  He  clasped  his  little  arms  tight  around  my  neck  ;  really,  1 
was  more  a  child  than  he,  for  I  sobbed  and  wept  —  I  could  hear 
his  little  heart  beat  quickly  as  he  tried  to  comfort  me.  '  Mother, 
don't  cry  so,'  said  he ;  *  I  will  be  good.  I  shall  soon  be  old  enough 
to  earn  some  money,  and  you  shall  have  it  all.  I  will  buy  you  s«>me 
glasses^  and  then  you  can  sew  in  the  evening.  And  I  will  get  you 
a  pound  of  tea.  Eben  Wood  loved  me  ;  he  will  hold  the  thread  for 
you  to  wind,  and  pick  up  chips  for  you  now,  sometimes,  I  guess.' 

"  But  the  moment  came  for  him  to  leave.  I  looked  upon  them  as 
the  wagon  rolled  out  of  the  yard  and  jolted  slowly  up  the  hill,  and 
watched  them,  till  the  top  of  his  little  blue  cap  disappeared,  as  they 
descended  the  other  side  of  the  hill ;  and  then  I  entered  the  house 
and  wept  anew. 

"  I  could  not  atTord  to  ride  ;  so,  when  the  year  came  round,  I  walked 
to  Mr.  Baker's  to  see  my  boy,  with  the  shoes  and  hat.  My  spirits 
were  never  lighter,  or  my  steps  more  nimble,  than  while  on  my  way; 
they  were  less  so  coming  home,  perhaps,  but  I  could  have  gone  any 
distance  to  meet  him  —  my  heart  was  very  tender  for  him.  I  found 
him  well,  and  a  good  boy  still. 

"  The  second  year  I  went,  and  he  was  much  improved.  His  kind 
feelings  made  him  a  little  gentleman  to  everybody  and  everything. 
He  would  not  give  a  moment's  pain  to  bird  or  chicken,  bug  or  fly; 
and  everybody  loved  John. 

"The  third  year  I  went.  He  was  ten  years  old,  that  day  —  it 
was  the  nineteenth  of  June.  It  was  dark  when  I  came  to  the  house. 
No  person  or  creature  was  in  the  yard  —  no  light  gleamed  from  the 
windows.  I  knocked,  then  opened  the  door  —  all  was  dark  and 
empty;  there  was  no  sound,  but  the  crickets  chirping  in  the  hearth, 
and  the  wind  rustling  in  an  apple-tree  behind  the  house.  Turning 
away,  I  came  and  stood  by  the  stream ;  the  water  still  poured  over 
the  dam,  but  the  wheels  of  the  mill  were  motionless.  Sitting  down 
upon  a  log,  I  wopt. 

20 


30G  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

"  It  was  a  mile  to  any  neighbor's  house.  Overcome  with  fatigue, 
I  could  scarcely  rise,  yet  the  thought  that  he  might  be  there  encour- 
aged me,  and  I  walked  on. 

"  The  people  seemed  kind,  pitied  my  sorrow,  but  knew  nothing 
of  my  son.  They  said  Mr.  Baker  had  failed,  and  left  the  town  syd- 
denly  —  no  one  knew  where  he  was  gone.  I  went  from  place  to 
place,  and  wore  out  three  pair  of  new  shoes  in  search  of  him.  Once 
I  traced  him  to  Newport,  and  learned  that  a  man  had  there  put  such 
a  boy  on  board  a  vessel  to  go  to  France  ;  but  could  ascertain  noth- 
ing more,  and  returned  home  broken-hearted. 

"  Two  years  passed  away.  Unable  to  support  myself — without 
n-.oney  and  without  friends  —  but  one  t\\\^g  remained  for  me.     I 

went  to  B and  cast  myself  upon  the  provision  of  the  State,  and 

became  an  honest,  industrious  inmate  of  the  alms-house. 

"Year  after  year  came  and  went,  without  bringing  me  any.  tidings 
of  my  son.  I  learned  to  live  without  him,  and  only  thought  of  him 
as  a  spirit  in  heaven. 

"  I  became  tired  of  my  companions  in  the  poor-house,  and  hired 
of  Mr.  Ford,  our  overseer,  a  little  room  over  his  corn-house.  As  it 
was  of  no  use  to  him,  he  let  me  have  it  for  sixpence  a  week.  The 
State  allowed  me  but  little  more  than  this  for  my  support;  however, 
I  managed  to  get  along.  I  could  knit  stockings  for  my  neighbors, 
and  used  to  gather  herbs  for  the  sick.  Besides,  I  did  not  need  much, 
—  tea,  sugar,  coffee,  butter,  and  such  like,  I  gave  up  long  ago.  Two 
meals  a  day  was  all  I  allowed  myself 

"  Cold  weather  was  rather  hard  upon  me,  sometimes,  it  is  true, 
when  the  sleet  covered  my  window»  and  the  loud  winds  shook  the 
building  around  me.  At  such  times,  when  I  was  most  lonely,  the 
image  of  my  little  John  was  ever  present  with  me,  till  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  he  were  really  there,  sitting  upon  his  low  stool  close  by 
my  side,  rubbing  his  thin  hands  (softly,  that  I  might  not  hear  him) 
to  keep  them  warm,  and  instructing  me  into  the  plans  he  had  formed 
for  taking  care  of  me  when  I  should  be  old.  But  these  thoughts 
would  soon  vanish,  and  give  place  to  happiness  more  abiding.  The 
widow's  Friend  forgot  me  not.  His  smile  kindled  gladness  in  my 
room,  till  even  the  rough,  knotted  boards  of  my  apartment  seemed  to 
join  in  praise  with  my  heart. 


JOHNNY  LEONARD  AND  HIS  MOTHER.  307 

"  But  though  I  could  talk,  without  ceasing,  of  his  mercies  tome  — 
for  such  words  are  '  honey  to  my  taste  '  — yet  I  will  not  detain  you. 
I  will  tell  you  of  them  in  '  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first  born  in  heaven.' 

"  Seventeen  years  had  passed  away.  It  was  just  a  week  to-night, 
two  gentlemen  came  to  Mr.  Ford's  about  «;ieven  o'clock  at  night ; 
they  were  well  dressed,  fine-looking  men  as  you  will  see  —  with  a 
handsome  horse  and  chaise.  They  asked  if  Mrs.  Leonard  was 
there.  Mr.  P  ord  pointed  them  to  where  I  was,  said  I  was  probably 
asleep,  and  invited  them  to  stay  till  morning  with  him ;  but  one  of 
them  replied,  he  must  see  me  then  —  that  he  was  my  son. 

"  Mr.  Ford  came  over  with  them.  They  knocked  at  my  door;  I 
awoke,  wondering,  and  let  them  in.  Wishing  to  see  if  I  would  rec- 
ognize a  son  in  a  stranger,  they  merely  bowed  as  they  passed  me, 
requesting  permission  to  look. at  the  room  —  talked  as  if  they  pur- 
posed buying  it,  occasionally  glancing  towards  me,  as  I  was  sitting 
wrapped  in  my  old  cloak,  shivering,  upon  the  side  of  the  bed.  I 
thought  they  had  taken  a  strange  time  to  purchase  a  building,  almost 
midnight !  I  had  heard  of  speculators,  and  of  their  being  about  era' 
zy  with  business,  and  concluded  these  were  some  of  them. 

"  One  came  toward  me,  and  asked  me  if  I  lived  there  all  alone ; 
and  if  I  were  not  very  lonesome.  I  replied,  I  had  been,  so  at  first, 
but  was  now  accustomed  to  it.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  had  no  family. 
I  replied, '  None.'  '  Have  you  never  had  any  ? '  he  asked.  This  was 
always  a  hard  question  for  me.  I  paused  a  moment  to  control  myself, 
and  could  only  say, '  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  them 
away.'  No  one  spoke.  I  looked  up  —  suddenly  the  bargain  had 
been  forgotten — tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  each.  One  of  them 
turned  away  and  leaned  over  the  fire-place,  while  the  other,  (who 
had  not  before  spoken  to  me,)  throwing  his  arms  around  my  neck, 
said,  '  Mother  —  mother  —  I  am  your  little  Johnny  ! '  " 

The  old  lady  wept,  and  said  to  me  —  "I  tell  you  what,  I  felt  pret- 
ty sinky." 

The  son,  since  he  was  ten  years  old,  had  been  almost  constantly 
at  5ea  ;  what  little  time  was  allowed  him  in  any  New  England  port 
he  had  employed  searching  for  his  mother,  but  knew  not  where  to 
find  her  till  now.  He  had  then  given  up  the  chances  of  a  life  upon 
the  deep,  and  established  himself  in  business  at  S , 


308  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

"  And  no;v,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  I  am  going,  and  expect  to  spend 
my  days  with  John.  I  think  I  am  not  unthankful  for  this  great 
blessing,  nor  have  forgotten  God,  whose  love  and  providence  pro- 
tected my  boy  in  a  world  full  of  danger,  and  has  made  my  'heart 
sing  for  joy,'  because  '  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost 
and  is  found. 

"  If  ever  you  should  go  to  S ,  you  may  see  where  he  lives. 

His  name  is  John  Newton  Leonard — on  his  sign  it  is  John  iV 
Leonard,  but  his  name  is  John  Netvton  Leonard."  h.  m.  t. 


Little  Edmund. 

DY   MRS.    SIGOIIRNEY. 

**  Be  good,  little  Edmund,"  yonr  mother  will  say,— > 
She  will  whisper  it  soft  in  your  ear,  — 

And  ofttimes  repeat  it,  by  night  and  by  day, 
That  you  need  not  forget  it,  my  dear. 

And  the  ant  at  its  work,  and  the  flower-loving  bee, 
And  the  sweet  little  bird  in  the  wood. 

As  it  warbles  a  song  from  its  nest  on  the  tree, 
Seem  to  say,  *'  Little  Eddy,  be  good." 

*'  Be  good,"  says  the  Bible  —  that  volume  of  love  — 

And  the  wisest  are  boulid  to  obey  — 
For  the  truths  that  it  teaches  will  lead  us  above, 

When  death  calls  the  spirit  away. 

For  as  sure  as  the  brook  to  the  river  doth  run, 

And  the  river  to  ocean's  broad  wave. 
This  rule,  if  well  learned  from  your  cradle,  my  son, 

Will  prove  your  best  wealth  at  the  grave 


A  RESIDENCE   AMONG   THE   INDIANS. 


809 


A   Residence  among  the  Indians. 

BY    MILES    HAWTHORNE. 

I  HAVE  never  found  any  subject  more  deeply  interesting  than  the 
.contemplation  and  study  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  North 
American  Indians.  In  my  youth,  when  my  winter  evenings  were 
sometimes  spent  in  reading  about  the  cruelties  practised  by  the 
ruthless  savages  towards  the  early  settlers  of  New  England,  I  used 
to  think  that  there  could  not  possibly  exist  a  more  'wicked  and 
treacherous  race  of  beings  than  the  Indians. 

As  I  grew  in  years,  and  m  knowledge,  and,  with  the  excellent 
opportunities  I  have  had,  examined  their  true  characters  and  disposi- 
tions, my  foolish  youthful  fears  vanished,  and  I  was  led  to  look 
upon  the  poor  Indian  as  a  human  being  like  myself,  gifted  with 
reason,  though  ignorant;  the  nobleness  of  whose  nature  would  com- 
pare favorably  with  many  other  wiser  nations.  In  our  own  comfort- 
able homes,  by  our  own  cheerful  firesides,  surrounded  by  all  the 
benefits  of  civilized  life,  we  are  too  apt  to  forget  the  wrongs  of  the 


310  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

red  man.  A^e  are  too  apt  to  forget  that  God  has  not  given  to  him 
the  learning  and  intelligence  with  which  we  are  blest.  His  mode 
of  living,  his  ideas  of  honor  and  of  a  Supreme  Being  may  not  appear 
right  in  our  eyes,  yet  he  is  acting  according  to  the  light  he  has 
received,  and  we  are  not  to  judge  him. 

The  history  of  the  red  man,  as  I  have  before  said,  is  a  fruitful  sub- 
je-.t  for  contemplation.  From  the  moment  when  Columbus  was 
first  welcomed  to  the  shores  of  the  New  World,  by  the  hospitable 
Indian,  until  the  present  day,  it  is  full  of  interest.  Though  their 
origin  is,  and  ever  must  be,  a  mystery,  yet  I  think  no  one  can  rea- 
sonably doubt  that,  at  the  time  when  this  country  was  discovered  in 
1492,  the  Indian  nation  was  in  its  prime  and  glory.  They  roamed 
through  the  pathless  forests,  at  pleasure,  and  their  hunting  and  fish- 
ing grounds  were  undisturbed.  The  mountains  and  rivers,  the 
lakes  and  valleys,  of  this  wide  country  were  all  theirs. 

But  the  white  man  came  among  them,  and  their  sovereignty  was 
gone.  For  nearly  three  hundred  years  they  have  been  passing 
away.  The  term  of  their  existence  as  a  distinct  nation  has  nearly 
expired.  More  than  three  quarters  of  their  fairest  lands  have  been 
grasped  by  the  avaricious  white  man,  and  more  than  twelve  mil- 
lions of  their  race  have  been  swept  away  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
A  very  small  band  now  remains,  and  very  soon  these  will  have  been 
swallowed  up  by  the  advancing  tide  of  civilization.  As  I  have  lived 
among  these  people  a  considerable  portion  of  my  life,  I  propose  to 
give  my  young  friends,  in  a  series  of  sketches,  an  account  of  what 
I  saw  of  their  habits,  manners  and  customs,  while  among  them, 
with  such  information  respecting  their  homes  and  haunts,  as  I  can 
find  room  for,  to  illustrate  their  wild,  roving. lives. 

Many  years  ago,  while  making  a  short  stop  at  the  city  of  St. 
Louis,  in  Missouri,  which  you  know  lies  upon  the  Mississippi  river, 
a  few  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  it  was  my  good  for- 
tune to  become  acquainted  with  the  captain  of  a  small  steamboat, 
who  was  about  ascending  the  Missouri  river  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  Indian  country,  a  distance  of  more  than  two  thousand  miles. 
Knowmg  that  I  was  very  fond  of  travelling  about  the  world,  he  very 
kindly  oflfered  me  a  passage  on  his  boat,  provided  I  was  willing  to 
encounter  the  dangers  of  the  long  passage.     This  was  the  first 


A    RESIDENCE    AMONG    THE    iNDiANs.  311 

Steamboat  that  had  ever  attempted  a  voyage  up  that  great  river,  for 
any  considerable  distance,  and  consequently  would  be  continually 
in  danger  of  being  sunk  by  the  snags,  which  abound  there.  Now, 
thought  I,  here  is  a  fine  chance  for  me  to  stfedy,  at  my  leisure;  the 
characters  of  the  red  men  of  the  west.  I  had  often  wished  for  an 
opportunity  of  this  kind,  and  I  at  once  accepted  the  captain's  offer 
and  set  about  preparing  for  my  jaunt.  I  Irought  my  business  in  St« 
Louis  to  a  close,  sent  to  Louisville  for  my  old  rifle,  which  I  used  to 
wall  "  Speaker,"  and  having  laid  in  a  sufficient  quantity  of  powder 
and  balls  to  last  me  a  year — for  my  readers  must  remember  that  in 
ihe  Indian  country  these  things  are  very  scarce  and  sell  for  a  high 
price — I  stepped  on  board  the  boat,  and  bid  farew'ell  to  the  tall 
?pires  and  busy  streets  of  St.  Louis,  for  aught  I  knew,  forever. 

After  ascending  the  Mississippi  for  a  few  miles,  we  turned  the 
bows  of  our  steamboat  into  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  and  we  were 
fairly  started  upon  our  dangerous  voyage,  far  away,  as  the  Lidianin 
his  thrilling  language  would  express  it,  "  towards  the  going  down 
of  the  sun."  Our  destination  was  the  mouth  of  the  Yellow  Stone 
river,  which  the  captain  told  me  \\'tis  in  the  middle  of  the  Indian 
tribes,  which  inhabit  the  country  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

For  the  first  five  hundred  miles  of  our  journey  nothing  of  great 
interest  occurred.  We  were  obliged  to  move  slowly  and  cautiously, 
for  fear  of  having  our  boat  sunk  by  the  snags.  We  frequently  ran 
aground  upon  the  sand-bars,  and  the  cry  of  "  Shoal  ahead !  back 
her !  "  was  heard  so  repeatedly  that,  at  last,  it  caused  no  fear  at  all 
among  the  passengers. 

The  Missouri  river  is  entirely  different  from  any  other  stream  of 
water  which  I  have  ever  seen.  Its  waters  are  always  muddy,  being 
most  of  the  year  exactly  the  color  of  a  cup  of  coffee  with  sugar  and 
cream  stirred  into  it.  Now  I  am  not  very  fond  of  coffee,  but,  if  I 
were  obliged  to  drink  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a  cup  of  Missouri  river 
water,  I  think  I  should  choose  the  coffee,  and  I  have  no  doubt  my 
readers  would.  Well,  I  will  tell  you  how  this  muddy  water  is  made 
so.  The  Missouri  river,  for  a  greater  part  of  its  length,  runs  through 
an  immense  level  plain  with  a  great  depth  of  rich  alluvial  soil,  and, 
being  a  very  large  river  and  the  current  strong,  its  channel  is  con- 
tinuaJy  changmg.     As  the  water  rushes  along,  the  banks  fall  in 


312  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

and  are  soon  mixed  with  the  water,  and  hence  the  turbid  appearar  ce 
of  the  river.  I  suppose  that,  when  these  waters  are  tumbling  down 
rhe  sides  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  they  are  as  pure  and  limpid  as 
iny  trout  brook  you  ever  saw.  But  the  falling  banks,  like  the  milk 
and  sugar  in  your  coffee,  soon  color  the  whole  and  make  it  thick 
and  dirty. 

The  sliores  upon  both  sides  of  this  river,  for  five  or  six  hundred 
miles  from  its  mouth,  are  well  wooded  with  large  and  fine  trees. 
As  the  banks  cave  in,  these  trees  become  undermined  and  fall  into 
the  stream.  Their  roots  become  fastened  to  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
by  the  weight  of  earth  clinging  to  them,  while  the  tops  are  floating 
upon  the  surface,  pointing  down  stream,  and  presenting  to  the  boat- 
man a  most  frightful  prospect.  In  some  places  the  whole  bed  of  the 
river  was  completely  filled  with  these  snags,  as  they  are  called,  and 
you  would  have  supposed,  from  their  appearance,  that  no  boat  could 
possibly  get  by  them  ;  yet  by  going  slowly  against  them  many  are 
so  loose  that  they  will  swing  round  like  the  buoys  in  our  harbors 
After  a  while  these  wooded  shores  and  snags  began  to  trouble  us 
less  and  less,  and,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Platte  river,  they  entirely  dis- 
appeared. Here  the  eye  is  relieved  by  resting  upon  the  green  car- 
peted prairies,  gracefully  sloping  to  the  water's  edge.  At  almost 
every  bend  of  the  river,  herds  of  buffaloes,  elks,  antelopes  and 
sneaking  wolves,  upon  the  banks,  became  frightened  by  our  steam- 
boat, which  came  puffing  and  blowing  along,  and,  after  receiving  a 
volley  from  our  hunters,  they  scattered  and  bounded  over  the  hills 
out  of  our  reach.  This  furnished  us  rare  sport,  and  I  found  "  Speak- 
er" a  useful  companion. 

The  Indians,  too,  having  never  seen  or  heard  of  a  steamboat, 
exhibited  the  greatest  wonder  at  our  approach.  Some  threw  them- 
selves upon  the  ground  and  called  upon  the  Great  Spirit  to  protect 
them ;  some  set  out  in  running,  and  did  not  stop  until  they  had  got 
well  out  of  our  sight,  while  others  would  approach  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  and  peep  cautiously  over.  One  time,  when  a  considerable 
number  had  approached  pretty  near  to  us,  our  captain,  who  was 
fond  of  a  joke,  let  off  a  large  quantity  of  steam  by  the  waste  pipe, 
when, head  over  heels,  men,  women,  and  children,  dogs  and  all,  rushed 
away,  tumbling  over  each  other,  in  the  most  admirable  confusion 


A    RESIDENCE    AMONG    THE    INDIANS.  313 

VV"e  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  their  foolish  fears,  but  we  saw  no  iiore 
of  them  that  night. 

After  being  nearly  three  months  upon  cnir  voyage  we  arrived  a 
the  mouth  of  the  Yellow  Stone  river,  the  place  of  our  destination. 
There  is  a  fort  built  here  upon  the  shore,  opposite  the  Yellow  Stone, 
which  was  erected  by  the  "  American  Fur  Company,"  partly  as  a 
store-house  for  the  fur  traders,  and  partly  as  a  protection  against  the 
[ndians.  Upon  our  arrival  at  the  fort,  we  fired  some  cannon,  that 
we  had  on  board,  and  here  was  another  wonder  for  the  savages,  who 
supposed  it  was  the  boat  which  caused  the  noise.  Directly  in  the 
rear  of  the  fort  is  a  large  Indian  village,  and  so  great  was  the  fear 
they  had  of  our  "big  thunder  canoe,"  as  they  always  afterwards 
called  it,  that  in  a  short  time  not  an  individual  could  be  seen.  The 
next  day,  however,  several  of  the  boldest  sachems  ventured  on  board, 
while  the  "  medicine,^^  as  they  called  our  cannon,  was  fired.  Every- 
thing that  the  Indians  here  do  not  understand,  they  term  "  medi- 
cine." 

This  fort  was  to  be  my  head-quarters  for  a  twelvemonth, 
assure  my  readers,  that  the  appearances  of  comfort  were  anything 
but  cheering,  yet  I  am  one  of  those  persons  who  do  not  like  to  give 
up  for  trifles.  The  boat  was  to  return  in  a  few  weeks,  or  as  soon  as 
the  merchandise,  which  had  been  brought  up  to  sell  to  the  Indians, 
could  be  landed  and  stored  in  the  fort,  and  the  winter's  stock  of  furs 
-and  buffalo  skins  put  on  board,  and  I  should  be  left  almost  alone,  in 
the  middle  of  a  nation  of  savages.  Never  mind,  thought  I  it  is  of 
no  use  to  be  discouraged.  I  will  try  to  live  peaceably  with  them, 
and  deal  fairly,  and  give  them  a  good  price  for  their  furs,  and,  at  any 
rate,  I  shallhave  a  chance  to  study  their  habits  well.  I  had  engaged 
with  the  captain  of  the  steamboat  to  assist  in  trading  with  the 
natives  for  their  furs,  during  my  leisure  hours.  In  the  mean  time 
the  crew  of  the  steamer  made  all  possible  despatch  to  get  ready  for 
her  return  home. 

While  the  captain  was  waiting  for  the  lading  of  the  boat,  a  party 
was  formed  to  visit  the  Elk  Horn  Pyiamid,  a  picture  of  which  yon 
will  find  on  the  other  side  of  this  leaf.  This  pyramid  is  situated 
at  the  mouth  of  "  Two  Thousand  Miles  river,"  which  joins  the 
Missouri,  two  thousand  miles  from  its  junction  with  the  Mississippi. 


314 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


Here  there  is  an  extensive  prairie,  covered  with  bushes  of  artemisia. 

ailed  with  elk  and  deer  paths  in  all  directions.  This  prair  je  extends, 
vithout  interruption,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  is  called, 
'■  Prairie  a  la  Corne  de  Cerf,"  because  the  wandering  Indians  have 

iiere  erected  a  pyranriid  of  elks'  horns. 

About  eight  hundred  paces  from  ,the  river,  the  hunting  or  war 

parties  of  the  Indians  have  gradually  piled  up  a  large  quantity  of 

elks'  horns,  till  they  have  formed  a  pyramid  sixteen  or  eighteen  feet 

high,  and  twelve   or  fifteen  wide.     Every  Indian  or  hunter,  who 

passes  by,  contributes  his  part. 


^s-^^^^^^^^srf^^^cP  --4?ier°^^^^^^s? 


At  length,  late  one  afternoon,  a  few  days  after  our  excursion  to 
the  "  Elk  Horn  Pyramid,*'  the  boat  having  been  laded  anc  all  things 
got  in  readiness  for  her  departure,  the  captain  and  those  vho  wero 
to  return  with  him  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  us,  and,  wishino-  me 
all  manner  of  good  luck,  they  all  went  on  board  the  steamer,  and 
the  bell  w^a    rung  for  the  last  time.     The  fastenings  were  loosened, 


A   RESIDENCE    AMONG   THE    I.-'-DIANS. 


315 


and  the  boat  pushed  oflf  fiom  the  shore,  and,  after  firing  a  salute, 
wh^ch  was  answered  from  the  fort,  she  dashed  proudly  down  the 
stream.  Hundreds  of  savages,  from  all  parts  of  the  surrounding 
country,  had  g:athered  upon  the  banks  of  the  river,  rending  the  air 
with  their  deafening  yells,  each  one  decked  and  painted  in  their 
customary  gaudy  manner,  and  apparently  highly  delighted  to  wit- 
ness the  departure  of  the  "  Big  Thunder  canoe."  Some  were  gazing 
intently  upon  the  departing  boat ;  some  were  playing  at  ball  upon 
the  plain,  while  others,  in  little  groups,  were  indolently  reclining 
before  their  wigwams.  I  ascended  a  little  hillock  a  short  distance 
from  the  fort,  and,  seating  myself  upon  the  ground,  watched  the 
departing  vessel,  which  was  rapidly  bearing  away  from  me  almost 
the  last  vestige  of  civilization,  as  she  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in  the 
distance,  until  at  last  a  bend  in  the  river  intervened,  and  she  was 
entirely  hid  from  my  view.  The  prospect  from  this  lovely  spot  was 
entirely  beyond  description,  and  although  the  charming  landscape  is 
even  now  fresh  in  my  recollection,  still  it  would  be  in  vain  to  attempt 
to  convey  to  my  young  friends  anything  like  a  correct  idea  of  its 
splendor.  Before  me  lay  the  broad  bosom  of  the  "  Father  of 
Waters,"  while  far  to  the  north,  over  the  boundless  desert,  rose 
one  above  the  other,  a  succession  of  gracefully  sloping  h"lls,  covered 
at  that  time  with  herds  of  grazing  buffalo.  The  sun  was  just  sink- 
ing :)ehind  the  V  lis,  and  a  cool  autumn  wind  moaned  among  the 


316  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

tall,  thick  grass  of  the  prairies.  In  despite  of  the  magnificence  of  the 
scenery,  or  of  my  bet:.er  judgment,  a  feeling  of  loneliness  came  ovei 
me,  such  as  I  have  n3ver  felt  before  or  since.  I  have  travelled  over 
many  foreign  lands  in  my  life,  far,  far  away  from  my  happy  home. 
I  have  stood  upon  the  summits  of  the  pyramids  of  the  Nile  —  those 
imperishable  monuments  of  ages  long  since  past  and  gone ;  I  have 
witnessed  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the  poor  Hindoo  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Ganges;  I  have  wandered  over  the  ruins  of  the  great  city 
which  saw  the  miracles  and  sufferings  of  our  Saviour  while  upon 
the  earth;  and  I  have  stood  alone,  and  at  night,  and  contemplated 
the  thundering  crater  of  Mount  Vesuvius  ;  yet  never  do  I  remember 
such  a  sad  feeling  weighing  down  my  spirits  as  I  now  felt  creeping 
over  me.  Perhaps  it  was  the  first  attack  of  home-sickness  which  I 
had  ever  experienced,  or  perhaps  it  was  fear  of  the  savages,  by 
which  I  was  surrounded  on  every  side,  or,  what  is  more  probable, 
the  solemn  feeling  that  these  screaming  sons  of  the  forest  were,  like 
the  setting  sun,  surely  passing  away  from  the  face  of  the  earth ;  that 
the  advancing  tide  of  civilization  would  soon  utterly  extinguish  their 
whole  race;  and  that  the  sword  and  the  "  fire  water"  of  the  white 
man  would  ere  long  blot  them  out  from  among  the  nations.  I  have 
lately  seen  some  very  pretty  verses,  written  by  Eliza  Cook,  the  poet- 
ess, which  truthfully  express  the  thoughts  of  the  poor  Indian,  as  he 
contemplates  the  encroachments  of  the  white  man  upon  his  hunting 
grounds      I  will  recite  them  : 

THE    LAMENT    OF    THE    INDIAN    HUNTER. 

Oh  !  why  does  the  while  man  follow  my  path, 

Like  the  hound  on  the  tiger's  track  ? 
Does  the  blush  on  my  dark  cheek  waken  his  writh? 

Does  he  covet  the  bow  on  ray  liack? 
He  has  rivers  and  seas,  where  the  billows  and  breeze 

Bear  riches  for  liim  alone  ; 
And  the  sons  of  the  wood  never  plunge  in  the  flood 

Which  the  white  man  calls  his  own. 

Why  then  should  he  come  to  the  streams  where  none 

But  the  red-skin  dare  to  swim? 
Why,  why  should  he  wrong  the  hunter-one, 

Who  nrver  did  harm  to  him  ^ 


A    RESIDENCE    AMONG    THE    INDIANS.  SI7 

The  Father  above  thought  fit  to  give 

To  the  white  man  corn  and  wine  ; 
There  are  golden  fields,  where  they  may  live, 

But  the  forest  shades  are  mine. 

The  eagle  hath  its  place  of  rest, 

The  wild  horse  where  to  dwell ; 
And  the  Spirit  that  gave  the  bird  its  nest, 

Made  me  a  home  as  well. 
Then  back,  go  back  from  the  red  man's  track, 

For  the  hunter's  eyes  grow  dim. 
To  find  that  the  white  man  wrongs  the  one 
'    Who  never  did  harm  to  him. 

How  long  I  should  have  lingered  on  that  lovely  spot  1  cannot  tell. 
.  was  suddenly  awakened  from  my  reverie  by  the  renewed  yells  of 
the  Indians,  and,  casting  my  eyes  towards  the  village,  I  observed  that 
the  greater  part  of  them  were  gathered  together  in  a  circle,  in  the 
open  space,  which  is  surrounded  by  their  wigwams,  apparently 
awaiting  some  game,  or  ceremony,  about  to  be  performed.  I  im- 
mediately started  for  the  spot,  and,  upon  arriving  there,  1  learned 
the  cause  of  the  uproar.  A  party  of  Blackfoot  Indians  had  just 
returned  from  a  buffalo  hunt,  bringing  in  the  mangled  and  bleeding 
body  of  one  of  their  number,  who,  in  a  desperate  charge  upon  u 
large  herd  of  buffaloes,  had.  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  trodden 
down  by  the  infuriated  animals,  and  so  dreadfully  wounded  that  he 
was  just  breathing  his  last.  Although  it  appeared  absolutely  im- 
possible for  the  poor  fellow  to  survive  but  a  very  short  time,  yet  I 
found  that  a  ^' mediciTie  man^^  was  about  to  perform  his  mysteries 
over  the  dying  man,  as  a  last  resort,  in  the  vain  hope  of  saving  his 
life. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  inform  my  readers,  before  relating  this  singu- 
lar ceremony,  what  a  medicine  man  is,  and  also  the  origin  of  the 
word.  Medicine,  m  all  the  Indian  country,  means  mystery.  Any- 
thing, or  any  operation,  which  an  Indian  is  unable  to  understand,  is 
always  called  "  medicine"  or  mysterious.  Most  of  the  fur  and  other 
traders  are  French,  and  in  their  language  a  doctor  is  called  a  "mede- 
cin."  Now  the  Indian  doctors,  of  which  there  are  a  great  many, 
pretend  to  be  magicians  :•:  mysterious  people ;  hence  they  are  called 


318  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

"medicine  r  en,"  and  in  this  way  the  word  has  become  common  foi 
anything  strange  or  unaccountable.  Besides  this,  every  Indian,  in 
his  primitive  state,  must  have  a  "  medicine  bag,"  and  under  all  cir- 
cumstances and  at  all  times,  he  must  carry  it  about  hiui.  They  look 
to  these  medicine  bags  for  protection  from  harm  through  life,  and 
they  are  always  buried  with  them  when  they  die.  It  is,  as  my 
readers  will  see,  a  kind  of  idolatry.  The  bags  are  made  of  the  skins 
of  various  kinds  of  animals,  birds,  bats,  and  sometimes  toads  or  liz- 
ards.    They  are  obtained  in  the  following  manner : 

When  an  Indian  boy  is  ten  or  fifteen  years  of  age,  he  wanders  off 
into  the  woods,  and  is  sometimes  gone  several  days  without  any  food. 
The  first  bird,  or  animal,  he  dreams  of,  or  pretends  to  have  dreamed 
of,  in  his  sleep,  is  to  be  his  medicine ;  and  on  returning  to  his  home, 
and  after  satisfying  his  hunger,  he  sets  off  to  kill  the  animal  or  bird, 
and  of  the  skin  the  bag  is  made.  Sometimes  they  are  very  neatly 
trimmed  and  attached  to  the  dress,  so  as  to  become  quite  ornamen- 
tal, and  at  others,  they  are  very  small  and  entirely  concealed  about 
the  dress.  They  are  never  opened,  never  sold,  never  given  away, 
as  this  would  bring  a  lasting  disgrace  upon  them.  If  an  Indian 
loses  his  medicine  bag  while  fighting  for  his  tribe,  no  matter  how 
bravely,  the  disgrace  is  the  same,  and  he  can  never  recover  his  lost 
honor  until  he  rushes  into  battle,  and,  after  killing  and  scalping  his 
adversary,  captures  li*j  medicine  bag,  and  brings  it  home  in  triumph. 

My  young  friends  may  be  inclined  to  laugh  at  these  foolish  fan- 
cies, and  well  they  may;  but  they  must  not  forget,  in  their  mirth, 
the  ignorance  of  these  savages.  Perhaps,  if  they  had  the  advantages 
and  the  knowledge  of  those  who  read  my  Miscellany  and  Maga- 
zine, they  would  be  as  free  from  these  laughable  superstitions  as 
civilized  people  are.  But  their  minds  are  in  darkness,  and  yet  1 
have  never  seen  the  slightest  reason  to  doubt,  that  they  were  sincere 
in  the  belief  that  their  medicine  bag  contained  their  Good  Spirit,  or 
protector.  I  have  known  them  to  go  fasting  for  several  days,  and  to 
punish  themselves  in  various  ways,  to  appease  their  medicine  bag, 
which  they  imagined  they  had  in  some  way  or  other  offended. 
But  to  return  to  my  narrative. 

We  had  not  waited  long  before  a  slight  and  mysterious  rattle  gave 
notice  that  the  medicine  man  was  approaching,  and  presently,  an 


A   RESIDENCE    AMONG    THE    INDIANS. 


319 


)pening  having  been  made  for  his  entrance,  he  crept  cautiously 
dlong,  during  the  most  profound  silence  of  the  spectators,  towards 
the  wounded  man,  who  was  even  now  in  the  agonies  of  death.  I 
will  give  you  a  picture  of  this 
curious  looking  individual.  On 
his  head  was  the  skin  of  an  enor- 
mous bear,  the  head  of  which 
served  him  as  a  mask.  At- 
tached to  this,  on  every  side, 
were  the  skins  of  various  kinds 
of  animals,  and  to  each  of  these 
an  immense  number  of  rattles. 
In  his  hands  he  carried  a  spear, 
gaudily  trimmed,  and  a  rattle 
somewhat  like  the  head  of  a 
druni,  which  he  alternately  shook 
over  the  dying  man,  dancing 
about  from  side  to  side,  and  occasionally  uttering  the  most  horrible 
noise,  and  chanting,  in  a  peculiar  style,  an  address  to  the  Good 
Spirit  foV  the  safety  and  life  of  the  sufferer.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
man  died,  and  the  medicine  doctor  bounded  away  to  his  tent,  and  no 
more  was  seen  of  him.  Thus  ended  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  per- 
formances I  have  ever  witnessed,  and  yet  every  Indian  present  was 
perfectly  serious  and  believed,  no  doubt,  to  the  fullest  extent,  in  the 
wonderful  mysteries  of  this  enchanter. 

I  soon  found  that  my  daily  intercourse  with  the  Indians  gave  me 
many  chances  to  gain  their  good  will,  and  also  to  study  their  habits. 
About  a  month  after  the  ceremony  of  the  medicine  man,  above 
alluded  to,  I  went  with  a  party  of  their  young  warriors  to  hunt  the 
buffalo.  They  were  disappointed,  however,  for  the  immense  herds 
which  had  but  a  few  days  before  covered  the  plains,  had  entirely 
disappeared. 

These  animals  are  continually  roving  about  over  the  immense 
western  prairies,  and  sometimes  there  is  so  great  scarcity  of  buffalo 
meat,  which  is  the  Indians'  principal  food,  that  they  resort  to  the 
"  buffalo  dance  "  (which  I  shall  explain  hereafter)  to  bring  the  animals 
back  again.     On  our  return,  however,  we  fell  in  with  a  troop  of  the 


320 


PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 


prairie  antelopes,  a  .ittle  animal  peculiar  to  this  country.  They  are 
excellent  food,  and  I  was  greatly  amused  at  the  method  of  taking 
them.  Our  whole  party  secreted  themselves  in  a  little  hollow,  and 
upon  the  level  ground,  a  little  way  off,  a  stick  was  driven  into  the 
ground  and  a  white  handkerchief  hung  upon  it.  So  full  of  curiosity 
are  these  animals,  that  they  came  bounding  along  towards  our  flag, 
as  you  may  see  in  the  cut,  and  we  were  lucky  enough  to  kill  sev- 
eral before  they  could  get  out  of  our  reach.  This  was  a  very  wel- 
come prize,  and  our  party  returned  home  in  high  spirits. 


ELL,  the  autumn  passed  swiftly  away, 
and  the  drifting  snows  of  winter  soon 
began  to  be  piled  upon  the  plains.  Not 
like  the  storms  upon  the  sea-coast,  a  foot 
§  of  snow  and  then  a  high  wind  to  whisk  it 
about  a  little,  fill  up  the  roads,  and  crawl 
into  the  farm  yards ;  but  long,  steady, 
deep  snows,  covering  up  everything 
sometimes  six  or  seven  feet  deep,  and 
endering  either  hunting  or  travelling,  except  upon  snow-shoes,  next 


A.    RESIDENCE    AMONG   THE    INDIANS.  321 

to  impossible.  I  watched  the  falling  flakes  with  considerable  regret, 
for  I  knew  that  during  the  winter,  which,  in  that  country,  is  usually 
long  and  severe,  I  should  be  kept  pretty  closely  within  the  fort,  and 
that,  until  spring  again  returned,  I  could  not  expect  a  renewal  of  my 
excursions  about  the  prairies.  However,  sighing  and  regrets  could 
not  miend  the  matter,  so  I  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Notwithstanding  that  we  were  kept  pretty  closely  in  doors,  I  found 
abundant  amusement  and  various  methods  of  passing  my  time  pleas- 
antly. Hardly  a  day  passed  during  which  there  were  not  more  or 
less  of  the  Indians  with  us,  either  trading  for  their  furs,  or  lounging 
about,  watching  for  a  good  opportunity  to  steal  something  from  us. 
The  Indian  thinks  it  no  disgrace  to  steal,  provided  it  is  done  cun- 
ningly, and  without  exposure ;  but  if,  as  frequently  happens,  the 
culprit  is  detected,  he  is  subjected  to  the  jokes  and  laughter  of  his 
comrades  for  his  failure. 

Among  the  Indians  who  daily  visited  our  fort,  I  noticed  one  day 
a  young  half-breed,  about  twenty  years  of  age.  His  father  was  a 
Canadian  trapper.  He  was  called  by  the  Indians,  Jol-lie-kin-i-wet, 
or  "  the  great  bear  trap."  At  the  fort  he  went  by  the  nickname 
Jollie.  He  was  a  smart,  active,  bright-faced  young  man  as  I  ever 
saw,  and  was  an  especial  favorite  with  all  who  knew  him.  Trained 
up  among  these  red  men,  and  probably  possessing  a  full  share  of 
their  native  cunning,  he  was  almost  perfect  in  every  accomplishment 
deemed  important  among  their  wise  men.  If  a  council  of  war  was 
called  by  the  "medicine  men"  in  the  village,  Jollie  was  sure  to  be 
consulted.  If  a  buflTalo  hunt  was  in  preparation  among  the  young 
warriors,  none  but  Jollie  could  head  them.  With  his  rifle  Jollie  was 
certainly  wonderful.  I  have  seen  him  often  shoot  the  eyes  from  the 
head  of  a  duck,  while  flying,  without  apparently  any  extra  exertion. 
With  this  young  fellow  I  soon  became  intimate,  and  we  had  many 
a  pleasant  day  together  during  that  long,  tiresome  imprisonment. 
I  sometimes  sat  for  hours  together  listening  to  Jollie's  adventures, 
many  of  which  almost  exceeded  belief;  and,  had  I  not  subsequently 
seen  him  accomplish  feats  which  were  almost  equal  to  his  stories, 
with  apparently  no  self  pride,  I  am  inclined  to  think  I  should  have 
looked  upon  him  as  a  story-teller.  Yet  an  acquaintance  of  many 
years  has  convinced  me  that  in  all  things,  his  word  could  be  de* 
21 


322  PICTORIAL   MISCELLANY. 

pended  on  as  true.  Rough  and  uncultivated  as  he  was,  I  soon  dis- 
^  covered  that  w'.thin  his  manly  heart  dwelt  that  scorn  and  tatred  of 
deliberate  falsehood,  which  at  once  gave  me  implicit  confidence  in 
his  assertions.  And  so  it  should  be.  If  there  is  one  sinful  habit, 
which  may  be  looked  upon  as  especially  mean  and  characteristic  of 
the  snemy  of  all  good,  it  is  lying. 

About  the  middle  of  the  winter,  when  the  snow  was  the  deepest, 
a  large  herd  of  buffaloes  was  seen  approaching  the  fort,  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river.  Of  course  there  was  a  great  stir  in  the 
village  among  the  Indians,  as,  for  many  months,  no  herds  had  come 
near  their  dwellings.  Every  warrior  armed  himself  with  his  spear, 
his  bow  and  quiver,  and,  having  fastened  a  pair  of  snow-shoes  upon 
his  feet,  the  company  sallied  forth  to  meet  the  huge  animals,  which 
were  wallowmg  through  the  snow,  bellowing  and  snorting  in  a  most 
furious  manner.  The  snow-shoes  of  the  Indians  are  made  in  a  great 
number  of  forms,  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  feet  in  length,  and 
Dne  foot  in  breadth.  Hoops  are  bent  round  for  the  frame,  and  under- 
neath is  stretched  the  skin  of  a  buffalo  like  the  head  of  a  drum, 
while  the  frame  over  this  is  woven  across  with  strings  of  raw  hide, 
on  which  the  feet  rest,  and  to  which  they  are  fastened  like  a  skate. 
By  the  aid  of  these  light  shoes,  the  Indian  runs  over  the  surface  of 
the  snow,  while  the  great  weight  of  the  buffaloes  sinks  them  down 
to  the  middle  of  their  sides,  and  almost  stops  their  progress,  which 
renders  them  certain  victims  to  the  spear  of  their  pursuers. 

As  soon  as  the  herd  which  I  have  mentioned  arrived  opposite 
the  village,  the  whole  party  of  warriors  rushed  towards  them,  with 
the  most  frightful  and  terrific  yells,  and,  for  the  space  of  half  an 
hour,  a  sad  butchery  took  place  among  them.  No  less  than  forty  of 
the  poor  beasts  were  destroyed,  and  after  the  Indians  had  stripped 
off  their  hides  and  a  very  small  portion  of  their  flesh  to  dry,  their 
carcasses  were  left  to  be  devoured  by  the  wolves.  It  is  painful  to 
witness  the  waste  that  is  made  of  these  noble  animals. .  It  is  true  the 
present  numbers  in  which  they  roam  over  the  whole  of  the  country 
is  almost  incredible,  yet  it  is  also  true  that  thousands  upon  thousands 
are  slain  every  year  merely  for  the  tongTies^  which  are  cut  out,  and 
the  rest  of  the  animal  left  to  decay  upon  the  prairie.      The  cut 


A    RESIDENCE    AMONG   THE    INDIANS. 


323 


oelow  will  gi»e  my  readers  a  good  idea  of  the  manner  of  taking 
"buffaloes  ill  winter. 


The  buffalo  belongs  to  the  ox  species,  though  many  of  them  attam 
a  much  larger  size.  The  buffalo  bull  often  grows  to  the  enormous 
weight  of  three  thousand  pounds.  The  horns  are  short,  and  the 
head  and  neck  are  covered  with  a  profusion  of  long  dark-brown  hair, 
or  mane,  not  unlike  that  of  a  lion.  They  roam  about  over  the  prai- 
ries, from  west  to  east^  subsisting  in  the  winter,  in  the  more  northern 
latitudes,  where  the  snows  are  heavy,  upon  the  grass  on  the  tops  of 
*he  hills,  from  which  the  wind  drives  the  snow  away.  I  have  in 
many  instances  seen  them  poke  the  snow  away  with  their  noses,  in 
order  to  get  at  the  dry  grass  underneath. 

In  the  chase  of  the  buffalo  upon  horseback,  the  rider  generally 
strips  himself  and  horse  by  throwing  off  his  shield  and  quiver,  and 
r.hose  parts  of  his  dress  which  might  be  an  encumbrance  to  him  in 
running,  grasping  his  bow  and  five  or  six  spare  arrows  in  his  left 
hand,  ready  for  use.  These  hunting  or  chasing  horses  are  so  well 
trained  that  no  bridle  is  necessary.  They  always  approach  the  buf 
falo  upon  the  right  side,  giving  their  riders  a  chance  to  throw  the 
dfow  to  the  left  In  chasing  the  buffalo,  the  Indians,  when  mounted, 
have  a  very  queer  guard  against  any  danger  which  might  arise 


324  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

from  being  thrown  from  their  horse.  In  catching  their  horses  the 
Indians  use  a  lasso.  This  is  a  long  thong  of  raw  hide,  tea  or  fifteen 
yards  in  length,  made  of  several  braids  or  twists.  Upon  one  end  is 
constructed  a  noose,  which  they  throw  over  the  head  of  the  running 
horse,  and  ^^ choke  him  down"  as  they  term  it.  Now,  in  chasing 
buffaloes,  this  lasso  is  fastened  to  the  horse's  neck,  and  drags  along 
upon  the  ground  some  yards  behind.  If  the  rider  is  thrown  from 
his  horse  during  the  conflicts  with  these  herds  of  roving  buffaloes, 
which  are  sometimes  very  severe,  he  can  grasp  this  dragging  lasso, 
and,  in  a  few  seconds,  regain  his  seat. 

These  and  many  other  methods  are  resorted  to  by  the  Indians  to 
kill  the  buffaloes.  Sometimes  the  hunters  draw  the  skin  of  a  wolf 
over  themselves,  and  creep  along  towards  the  animals  with  their 
bows  and  arrows  concealed.  As  the  wolves  are  very  plenty  in  that 
country,  the  buffalo  manifests  no  fear  at  their  approach,  until  the 
deadly  shaft  has  flown,  and  then  it  is  too  late.  Sometimes  the  herd 
is  driven  off  a  high  precipice,  and  hundreds  are  killed,  or  so  much 
wounded  that  the  spear  of  the  Indian  soon  despatches  them.  Even 
the  prairie  wolves  will  surround  an  aged  or  wounded  buffalo,  if  he 
can  be  separated  from  the  herd,  and  worry  him  to  death. 

One  fme  morning,  about  the  middle  of  spring,  I  was  pulled  rather 
roughly  out  of  my  bed  before  I  v.'as  awake.  As  soon  as  I  had 
rubbed  my  eyes  open,  and  recovered  the  use  of  my  memory,  I  saw 
my  friend,  Jollie,  standing  over  me  with  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  anc 
his  powder-horn,  bullet-pouch,  and  knap-sack,  slung  over  his  shoul 
ders. 

"  Come,  Miles,"  said  he,  "there's  a  hunt  afoot.  Wake  up,  my 
boy,  and  follow  us.     Come,  hurry  ! " 

I  felt  in  rather  bad  humor  on  being  so  suddenly  waked  out  of  a 
sound  sleep,  and  began  to  mutter  out  a  drowsy  refusal  to  go  with 
him,  but  my  companion  would  take  no  denial.  He  seized  my  arms, 
and  for  a  minute  or  two  danced  me  about  my  little  apartment,  in 
double-quick  time,  notwithstanding  my  entreaties  for  a  parley. 

"Come,  hurry !"  said  he,  flourishing  his  bright  rifle  about  my 
head.  "  You  are  not  half  awake  yet.  Open  your  peepers  pocket 
a  biscuit  or  two,  and  we  will  be  off.  Now  imagine  those  beaver- 
pack  across  the  yard  to  be  the  real  thing  —  here  goes  for  a  shot." 


LIFE    AMONG   THI    INDIANS.  325 

Ncnv,  I  loved  hunting,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  my  spirited 
companion  went  through  his  imaginary  exploits  quite  aroused  me. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  will  go ;  but  why  this  hurry  ?  You  '11  give 
me  time  to  dress  myself,  wont  you  ? " 

"  Hardly,"  responded  my  tormentor,  "  unless  you  are  handy,  for 
Mah-to-he-ha  and  Jack  Sanford  are  now  waiting  for  us  in  the 
canoe.     The  rest  have  been  gone  an  hour  or  more." 

"Thft  rest  of  the  party? — why,  where  are  we  going?" 

"  O,  up  the  creek." 

Jollie  always  called  the  Missouri  river  "  the  creek."  -  Before  i 
was  ready,  I  learned  that  fifteen  or  twenty  of  the  best  hunters  in  the 
village  had  left  early  in  the  morning  upon  horses,  and  that  we  were 
to  follow  up  the  river  in  a  canoe,  and  to  come  ashore  at  night  and 
remain  with  them.  By  pretty  constant  labor  we  could  easily  go  as 
far  in  the  canoe  before  night-fall  as  the  men  upon  horses,  and  Mah- 
to-he-ha  and  Jack  were  the  best  boatmen  in  the  vicinity.  I  hurried 
on  my  dress,  and  equipped  myself  for  several  days'  absence  up  the 
river,  and  in  a  short  time  we  were  on  the  smooth,  unruffled  surface 
of  the  great  Missouri  river.  We  set  out  in  high  glee,  and  our  frail 
bark  canoe  glided  over  the  water  with  the  swiftness  of  a  bird. 

Noting  of  importance,  or  worth  relating,  occurred  during  the 
day.  We  occasionally  shot  at  game  upon  the  banks  of  the  river,  or 
stopped  to  admire  the  charming  landscapes  which  almost  every  bend 
of  the  river  revealed  to  us.  The  further  one  ascends  the  Missouri 
river,  the  greater  variety  he  will  find  for  his  admiration.  Just  at 
sundown  we  spied  the  red  flag  upon  the  banks,  the  signal  agreed 
upon,  and  we  paddled  our  canoe  ashore,  and  found  the  party  already 
encamped  for  the  night.  Early  the  next  morning,  we  set  oflf  again 
as  before. 

As  we  hauled  up  our  canoe  the  fourth  evening  after  our  departure, 
I  found,  by  the  preparations  which  were  being  made  in  the  camp 
among  the  hunt«^rs,  that  something  was  going  to  be  done.  The 
rifles  were  examined,  tomahawks  and  scalping-knives  sharpened 
and  put  in  order,  and  a  watch  stationed,  for  the  first  time  since  we 
left  home,  about  our  tents.  Besides,  I  saw  three  or  four  of  the 
bravest  warriors  in  "  secret  session,"  as  legislators  say,  deeply  en- 
gaged in  discussing  some  important  matters.     The  next  morning, 


326  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

however,  we  set  off  as  usual,  and  I  could  not  understand  why  wf 
were  to  go  on,  if,  as  I  had  surmised,  we  were  near  the  place  of  our 
destination.  So,  after  we  were  quietly  seated  in  our  canoe,  I  com- 
menced conversing  with  my  companions,  hoping  to  learn  something 
al?out  these,  to  me,  extraordinary  proceedings. 

"  Jollie,"  said  I,  "  don't  you  think  we  are  pretty  near  the  buf- 
falo's range  ? " 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  "  guess  not.  Maybe  though,  may  be  not  — 
come  on  'em  soon." 

"  But,"  I  continued,  "  did  you  not  observe  our  hunters  last  night 
examining  their  rifles,  preparing  their  powder,  and  making  other 
similar  preparations  ?  and  don't  that  show  that  they  expect  the  game 
is  at  hand  ? " 

Jollie  turned  a  glance  full  of  meaning  at  me,  and  in  his  charac- 
teristic manner  replied  :  "  Fish  don't  sleep  out  of  water.  Thieves 
never  beat  a  drum  when  they  go  to  steal.  The  Blackfeet  rifles  are 
straight ! " 

In  an  instant  the  truth,  painful  as  it  was,  flashed  across  my  mind. 
We  were  in  danger.  We  were  now  on  the  hunting  premises  of  the 
Blackfeet  and  Crow  Indians,  and  were  liable,  every  moment,  to  a 
surprise.  However  safe  I  had  felt  at  the  fort,  however  Wree  from 
danger  I  had  flattered  myself  I  should  be  in  the  Indian  country,  I 
now  saw  that,  unless  Jollie  was  joking  with  me,  which  I  really 
hoped,  my  life  was  in  danger.  All  my  former  dread  of  the  murder- 
iqg  savages  returned  in  a  moment,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  actu- 
ally trembled.  I  would  have  given  anything  to  have  been  safely 
back  to  the  fort;  but  that  was  impossible.  I  did  not  dare  to  exhibit 
the  least  fear  to  my  companions,  who  seemed  to  care  very  little  about 
the  matter,  for  a  coward  could  never  live  among  the  Indians  with 
any  safety  or  comfort  to  himself.  How  much  I  thought  of,  that  day, 
besides  my  own  preservation,  my  young  readers  can  judge.  A 
hundred  times  did  Jollie  put  me  to  the  torture,  by  recounting  some 
of  his  hair-breadth  escapes  from  his  enemies,  exhibiting  the  marks 
of  knifes  upon  his  person,  and  speculating  as  to  what  we  had  reason 
to  expect  before  night;  and  I  found  that  he  would  consider  the 
party  lucky  if,  provided  we  were  attacked,  one  half  of  our  number 
escaped.     In  short,  I  had  the  "  horrors  "  dreadfully  wV.  day.     The 


t,iFE    AMONG   THE    INDIANS. 


327 


least  noise  upon  the  banks  of  the  river  aroused  and  terrified  me 
exceedingly.  However,  I  managed  to  keep  my  fears  to  myself,  and  by 
and  by,  not  hearing  any  guns,  I  began  to  suspect  that  Jollie  was  mak- 
ing fun  of  me.  So  I  became,  all  at  once,  remarkably  courageous,  and 
once  actually  suggested  a  plan  to  entrap  and  kill  any  offensive  sav- 
age which  we  might  fall  in  with.  My  readers  may  naturally  think 
that,  considering  my  fears,  the  "offensive  savages"  were  not  in 
much  danger.     At  any  rate,  /thought  so. 

The  afternoon  now  began  to  warn  us  to  be  looking  on  shore  for 
the  usual  signal,  the  red  flag.  We  searched  until  the  sun  had 
nearly  set,  but  could  not  obtain  the  least  indication  of  the  encamp- 
ment. At  length  we  discovered  a  smoke  rising  over  a  hillock  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  river,  which  we  at  once  concluded  must  be 
our  companions.  We  hastily  drew  up  to  the  shore,  and  ascended  to 
the  top  of  the  hillock,  where,  as  soon  as  we  had  shown  ourselves, 
we  were  greeted  by  a  startling  and  horrid  yell,  from  a  band  of  fifty, 
or  sixty  savages,  encamped  at  the  foot.  What  was  to  be  done? 
The  whole  party  started  after  us,  and  several  bullets  whistled  about 
my  ears.  Without  waiting  for  a  consultation  in  such  perilous  times, 
I  took  to  my  heels,  and  ran  for  the  boat.  •'  Don't  go  there,  Miles," 
shouted  Jack  Sanford.  "  They  '11  kill  you  if  you  do.  Run  for  the 
thicket."  Regardless  of  his  advice,  which  may  have  been  very 
good,  I  continued  on,  threw  the  canoe  into  the  river,  and,  with  all 
my  remaining  strength,  gave  it  a  powerful  drive  into  the  stream. 
I  had  just  time  to  give  one  or  two  additional  strokes  with  the  paddle, 
and  to  throw  myself  into  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  when  I  heard  the 
savages  running  down  the  hili  towards  the  river,  screeching  and 
yelling  like  so  many  maddened  fiends.  1  expected,  of  course,  that 
they  would  swim  after  me,  and  that  I  must  soon  be,  at  least,  their 
prisoner,  and  subject  to  all  the  cruelties  they  could  devise.  How- 
ever, I  kept  perfectly  still,  being  determined,  as  there  were  three  or 
four  tomahawks  in  the  canoe,  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  I  could, 
if  they  did  swim  after  me.  I  had  not  lain  many  minutes,  when  I 
heard  the  noise  of  some  one  near  the  canoe,  apparently  swimming.  I 
grasped  a  tomahawk,  and  in  a  perfect  agony  of  suspense,  heard  the 
.noise  approaching  nearer  and  nearer,  while  the  outcries  of  the  In- 
dians up(  n  the  shore  now,  at  some  considerable  distance  from  me,  as 


328  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

I  judged  by  the  sound,  were  redoubled.  Presently  a  hand  grasped 
/he  edge  of  the  canoe,  and  before  I  had  time  to  strike  at  it,  an  individ- 
ual had  thrown  himself  completely  into  the  boat,  by  my  side.  Judge 
uf  my  surprise  when  I  saw  that,  instead  of  an  Indian,  it  was  Jollie ! 
[  made  a  motion  as  though  1  would  speak,  but  he  cried  out,  "  Lie 
still,  for  your  life ;  keep  close  to  the  bottom  of  the  boat."  In  an- 
other instant  a  shower  of  bullets  whistled  over  and  around  us, 
several  of  which  pierced  our  frail  vessel  through  and  through. 
"Thank  you,"  said  Jollie,  raising  his  head  and  peaking  through  one 
of  the  apertures ;  "  you  've  made  me  a  good  window.  There  are 
more  than  fifty  of  the  black  varmints,  and  several  are  now  preparing 
to  swim  for  us.  Miles,  my  boy,  hand  me  your  jack-knife."  I  rea- 
dily passed  my  companion  the  knife,  with  which  he  cut  a  large  hole 
in  the  side  of  the  canoe  furthest  from  the  savages.  With  a  bit  of 
the  bark  he  gently  and  gradually  paddled  our  boat  further  and  fur- 
ther from  our  persecutors,  though  now  and  then  the  shot  from  their 
rifles  would  scatter  around  us,  and  we  were  for  some  time  in  much 
danger.  The  river  being  very  wide  here,  we  were  shortly  out  of 
the  reach  of  harm,  and  soon  reached  the  opposite  shore,  where  wo 
could  watch  the  manoeuvres  of  the  savages  in  safety. 

"Well,  Jollie,"  said  I,  fixing  my  eyes  upon  him,  "  we  got  out  of 
that  scrape  pretty  neat." 

He  turned  towards  me  for  an  instant,  evidently  to  ascertain  if  1 
was  in  earnest,  and  then  said,  *'  Out  of  it  —  into  it,  you  mean." 

*'  No,  I  mean  out  of  it.  The  rascals  are  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  we  are  on  this,  entirely  out  of  their  reach.  Pretty  soon 
It  will  be  dark,  and  then  we  can  move  off  unseen,  and  cut  for  home." 

"That  is  all  very  well.  Master  Miles,"  said  my  comforter,  "but 
you  forget  how  far  we  are  from  home.  You  forget  how  many  red 
faces  may  be  cruising  on  the  river  after  us.  You  forget  our  two 
companions.  Would  you  go  off  without  them  ?  Let  us  wait  a 
spell." 

It  was  now  so  dark  that  we  could  see  but  a  very  few  rods  upon 
the  water  distinctly.  The  dim  outline  of  the  hills  could  just  be 
traced,  and  to  complete  our  interesting  situation,  a  thunder  shower 
began  to  gather  in  the  distance.  Presently  a  large  fire  was  kindled 
on  the  opposite  shore,  which  cast  a  perfect  oamper  on  all  my  favor- 
ite plans.     Every  object  on  the  water  could  be  distinctly  seen,  and 


RESlDEiNCE    AMONG    THE    INDIANS.  329 

we  could  perceive  the  whole  Land  of  savages  busily  employed  in 
making  preparations  probably  to  catch  us. 

"  See  there,  Miles,  my  boy,"  said  Jollie,  as  he  pointed  to  a 
thicket  a  little  way  down  the  river;  "  do  you  see  that  light?" 

I  did  indeed  see  a  faint  glimmering  light  on  the  other  bank,  which 
seemed  to  be  making  frequent  and  circular  motions. 

"  That 's  Jack,"  said  my  companion  —  *'  that 's  Jack ;  and  he  has 
seen  us  land  here,  and  is  endeavoring  to  attract  our  attention.  If 
that  shower  approaching  only  proves  a  regular  drencher,  we  are 
fixed.     There 's  the  light  again.     Hurrah!" 

I  saw  nothing  in  the  light  to  take  courage  from,  yet  I  was  glad  to 
^ee  Jollie  so  elated,  and  I  felt  sure  he  was  a  better  judge  than  my- 
self. In  the  mean  time  the  storm  came  on,  and  it  proved,  as  my 
companion  had  hoped,  a  "  regular  drencher."  The  thunder  and 
lightning  were  truly  terrific,  and  the  rain  poured  down  in  a  perfect 
torrent.  Jollie  kept  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the  light  until  the  rain 
prevented  it  from  being  seen.  We  drew  our  canoe  ashore,  and  hav- 
ing turned  it  bottom  upwards,  crawled  under  it  to  prevent  getting 
wet. 

The  rain  continued  to  come  down  for  more  than  hour,  when  the 
cloud  passed  over,  and  it  grew  light  again.  We  had  managed  to 
keep  our  rifles  perfectly  dry,  and  after  examining  our  little  stock 
of  dried  buffalo  meat,  we  came  forth  from  our  shelter.  To  my  sur- 
prise, the  fire  upon  the  other  shore  had  almost  entirely  disappeared, 
and  we  could  occasionally  hear  a  stifled  yell  from  our  enemies. 

"  Now,  Miles,  ship  your  traps,  and  we  must  be  off.  We  have  no 
time  to  lose.  Have  you  got  everything  ?  Push  off?  Take  care 
and  speak  low,  and  sit  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat." 

Jollie,  as  soon  as  we  were  afloat,  seized  a  paddle,  and  keeping 
for  a  short  time  close  to  the  shore,  silently  urged  our  frail  canoe  over 
the  water.  When  nearly  opposite  the  point  where  the  flickering 
light  had  been  seen,  he  turned  the  prow  of  our  boat  across  the  river, 
and  pulled  for  the  spot.  We  landed  without  being  molested,  but 
heard  no  one.  Jollie  gave  one  of  his  peculiar  shrill  whistles,  which, 
to  our  great  joy,  was  antwered.  In  a  very  few  minutes  Jack  San- 
ford  was  with  us.  He  had  been  wounded  in  his  leg,  but  not 
severely,  and  cjawling  into  the  thicket,  he  had  escaped  notice. 


330  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY 

"  Where  's  Mah-to-he-ha?"  said  Jollie. 

••  Gone  under,"  said  Jack,  sorrowfully.  *'  He  ran  with  me  a  little 
ways,  but  he  was  hit  and  fell.  The  cowards  lifted  his  hair  and  left 
him  dead." 

"Well,"  said  Jollie,  ^^  our  hair  is  in  a  dangerous  spot  just  now; 
let 's  be  off."  We  jumped  into  our  canoe,  and  with  all  our  exertions 
crowded  the  boat  down  the  stream.  Fortunately,  we  had  another 
shower  a  short  time  after  we  started,  and  under  cover  of  the  extreme 
darkness  of  the  night  we  escaped.  We  paddled  with  diligence  until 
near  the  break  of  day,  when,  not  deeming  it  prudent  to  show  our- 
selves in  public,  we  landed  and  drew  our  canoe  into  a  thicket,  and 
having  devoured  the  remaining  portion  of  our  dried  meat,  we  spread 
our  blankets  and  went  to  sleep. 

How  long  I  slept  I  hardly  know,  but  when  I  awoke  the  sun  was 
high  above  the  horizon,  peeping  cheerfully  through  the  trees.  My 
companions  sat  conversing  together  at  a  short  distance  from  me, 
seeming  cheerful  and  free  from  care.  1  soon  joined  them,  and 
after  bestowing  a  few  compliments  upon  me  for  my  early  rising, 
we  began  to  think  about  a  breakfast.  We  were  yet  many  miles 
from  home,  and  on  the  hunting  grounds  of  our  enemies.  I  proposed 
that  we  should  lie  still  and  close  all  day,  and  at  night  pursue  our 
journey.  This,  however,  did  not  please  Jollie,  who  said  he  must 
have  his  breakfast.  We  accordingly  climbed  the  bank,  and  with 
our  guns  proceeded  to  search  for  game. 

On  our  way  we  came  across  what,  to  me,  was  a  most  interesting 
sight.  This  was  the  numerous  villages  of  prairie  dogs.  These  ani- 
mals dig  their  holes  on  the  level  prairie,  throwing  up  the  dirt  in  a 
conical  form,  upon  which  they  sit  and  bark  upon  the  approach  of 
danger.  We  passed  thousands  of  these  little  hillocks,  upon  the  tops 
of  which  sat  the  little  dogs,  hardly  as  large  as  wood-chucks,  which, 
at  our  approach,  sent  forth  the  most  noisy  demonstration  of  anger  at 
being  disturbed,  that  can  well  be  imagined.  As  we  came  within 
gun-shot,  they  would  dodge  down  out  of  sight,  and  as  we  passed  by 
their  little  huts  nothing  could  be  seen  of  them.  When  we  got  away 
about  the  same  distance,  the  little  heads  would  appear  again,  snarl- 
ing and  yelping  as  before.  These  little  communities  are  exceed- 
ingly numerous  upon  the  prairies,  and  when  they  oo:ur  in  large 


A    RESIDEIICE    AMO:<'a   THE    INF/ \NS.  331 

numbers  together,  as  they  frequently  do,  the/  form  an  interesting 
appearance.  The  dogs  are  very  harnriless,  but  very  impudent  and 
saucy.     Their  "  bark  is  worse  than  their  bite." 

About  mid-day  we  fell  in  with  a  small  herd  of  buffaloes.  We 
were  fortunate  enough  to  kill  a  nice  fat  cow,  and  JoUie  immediately 
cut  out  the  tongue,  which  is  the  most  delicious  part  of  the  animal 
while  Jack  loaded  me  with  other  choice  bits  of  meat,  from  various 
parts  of  the  carcass,  which  he  seemed  to  know  where  to  find  readily, 
together  with  several  marrovv-bones ;  and  we  retraced  our  steps  to- 
wards our  canoe.  We  built  a  fire,  and  round  it  placed  our  beef,  to 
b#cooked.  We  then  seated  ourselves  upon  a  green  spot,  and  par- 
took of  our  repast,  a  feast  that  to  me  tasted  far  better  than  the  most 
dainty  morsel  I  have  ever  eaten. 

Night  soon  came  on,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  dark,  we 
again  pushed  off  down  stream.  We  toiled  hard  all  night  and  all  the 
next  day,  and  just  at  nightfall  we  arrived  in  sight  of  the  fort.  1 
was  glad  enough  to  get  into  my  old  quarters  again,  and  determined 
not  to  leave  them  again  for  a  single  night  if  I  could  possibly  help  it. 

The  next  day  I  learned  that  the  party  upon  horseback  had  re- 
turned a  few  hours  before  us.  They  had  been  surprised  and 
attacked  near  the  spot  which  had  nearly  seen  us  destroyed,  and 
seven  of  their  number  killed.  They  had  in  return  killed  and 
wounded  a  considerable  number  of  their  enemies,  and  had  succeeded 
in  bringing  home  several  scalps.  I  confess  that  these  bloody  knots 
of  hair  looked  any  thing  but  pleasant  to  me,  and  I  almost  invol- 
untarily raised  my  hand  to  ascertain  that  my  own  top-piece  was 
safe.  I  was  reminded  of  my  youthful  fears.  Then,  when  the  wind 
whistled  around  my  father's  dwelling,  I  almost  instinctively  exaiT!- 
ined  the  door  fastenings,  and  drew  my  chair  closer  and  closer  t;)- 
wards  that  of  my  elder  brother.  I  knew  very  well  that  there  were 
no  murdering,  scalping  savages  about,  yet  so  great  were  my  preju- 
dices against  the  whole  race,  awakened,  no  doubt,  by  reading  about 
their  bloody  acts,  that,  in  spite  of  my  better  feelings,  a  thrill  of  hor- 
ror would  come  creeping  over  me.  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  o( 
my  young  readers  have  experienced  moments  of  terror  similar  to  my 
own ;  and  they  will  hardly  believe  me  when  I  tell  th'-ni  that  not- 


332  riCTOKIAL    3.11SCELLANY. 

withstanding  tlie  many  barbarous  practices  of  these  savages,  and 
though  so  Kir  from  home  and  friends,  I  soon  mingled  with  my  new 
associates  freely  and  without  fear. 

Summer  passed  rapidly  away,  and  already  autumn  was  close  at 
hand.  Time  did  not  hang  heavy  on  my  hands,  for  almost  every 
day  some  new  species  of  amusement  or  recreation  was  brought  for- 
ward ;  and  I  found  that  I  had  gained  many  friends  among  the  sav- 
ages of  the  village.  Jollie  was  my  constant  companion,  and  the 
more  I  saw  of  him  the  more  I  loved  him.  His  heart  was  a  large 
one,  and  in  the  right  place.  Once,  indeed,  he  came  home  to  the 
camp,  after  a  few  days'  absence,  with  his  hands  covered  with  bloPi, 
and  a  terrible-looking  tuft  of  hair  in  his  girdle.  It  was  the  scalp  of 
a  "Crow"  Indian,  whom  he  had  slain.  I  turned  with  horror  away 
from  the  sight,  and  thought  I  should  never  forgive  him  for  that 
cruel  act  of  butchery.  Yet  when  I  reflected  that  it  was  the  habit 
of  the  Indian  to  scalp  his  defeated  enemy,  that  it  was  in  fact  a  part 
of  their  religion,  and  that  hardly  a  single  month  had  passed,  since 
my  arrival  at  the  fort,  during  which  time  some  bloody,  cruel  act  of 
aggression  had  not  been  committed  among  his  tribe  by  the  "  Crows," 
I  felt  that  it  was  the  result  of  ignorance  and  a  bad  habit,  rather  than 
a  bad  heart.  Nor  is  the  simple  act  of  scalping  so  cruel  as  civilized 
people  generally  imagine.  An  Indian  never  scalp3  his  enemy  until 
he  has  killed  him,  or  left  him  for  dead,  and  then  it  is  done  in  order 
to  show  his  companions  the  trophy  of  his  victory,  rather  than  a 
desire  to  torment  his  victim.  It  brings  him  honor  among  his  tribe, 
as  a  brave  warrior ;  and  he  who  can  show  twenty  scalps  has  reached 
the  very  pinnacle  of  fame  among  them.  In  our  own  country,  when 
a  premium  is  offered  by  the  magistrates  for  killing  bears,  foxes, 
wolves,  or  dogs,  when  they  are  troublesome,  the  ears  are  cut  off  and 
brought  in,  and  this  being  deemed  a  sufficient  proof  of  their  destruc- 
tion, the  premium  or  bounty  is  paid.  So  with  the  Indian's  scalp, — 
with  this  difference,  that  they  receive  honor  instead  of  gold.  There 
are  various  other  peculiarities,  touching  this  cruel  practice  of  scalp- 
ing,* which  I  will  mention.  Th  2  following  anecdote,  which  is  said 
to  be  true,  will  show  you  hQ  v  strong  this  habit  is,  when  once 
implanted  in  the  human  breast 


A   RESIDENCE   AMONG   THE    INDUNS.  333 

An  American  infant  was  carried  off  by  the  Indians,  and  rearec^ 
by  an  Indian  mother  as  her  own.  Of  course  he  grew  up  in  all  the 
savage  customs,  especially  in  their  admiration  of  the  scalps  of  an 
enemy.  By  and  by,  he  was  brought  back  to  civilization,  was  edu- 
cated, and  became  a  clergyman.  He  acquitted  himself  honorably, 
and  seemed  happy  in  his  vocation.  But,  some  years  after,  he  was 
located  near  the  seat  of  war  between  England  and  the  United 
States,  and  went  out,  on  one  occasion,  in  his  professional  black  and 
white,  to  witness  a  fight.  When  he  returned,  a  gentleman  noticed 
his  flushed  look  and  hurried  manner,  and  remarked  to  him  that 
there  was  blood  on  his  shirt.  The  young  man  crossed  his  hands 
firmly  upon  his  breast;  and  his  friend,  supposing  it  was  to  conceal 
a  wound,  pulled  open  the  shirt,  and  saw  between  it  and  the  breast  a 
bloody  scalp.  "  I  could  not  help  it ! "  cried  the  victim  of  habit,  and 
ran  instantly  back  to  Indian  life,  and  never  more  appeared  among 
the  whites. 

An  Indian  Tiever  scalps  one  of  his  own  tribe,  no  matter  how  much 
of  a  traitor  he  may  have  been.  He  may  have  escaped  and  joined 
the  enemies  of  his  tribe  ;  he  may  have  killed  his  wife,  his  children, 
his  chief  and  king;  yet  it  is  just  the  same.  No  provocation  can 
induce  an  Indian  to  scalp  one  of  his  own  people,  if  he  knows  it. 
He  may  kill  him  in  a  moment  of  anger,  —  an  occurrence  which  is 
by  no  means  rare,  —  but  to  scalp  him  would  be  a  blot  upon  his  fame 
which  time  could  never  efface. 

So  jealous  are  these  red  men  of  their  honor,  that  sometimes  the 
least  provocation  will  destroy  all  care  for  life  in  a  moment.  An 
instance  of  this,  which  occurred  while  I  was  among  them,  will  illus- 
trate this  point.  An  Indian  in  our  village,  named  Mah-ton-wiss,  had 
killed  a  "  Crow  "  and  scalped  him,  and  returned  in  triumph  to  his 
home.  It  soon  became  known,  however,  that  his  victim  was  not 
quite  dead  when  Mah-ton-wiss  left  him,  and  that  he  had  been  discov- 
ered in  a  critical  state  by  his  friends,  taken  home,  and  that  eventu- 
ally he  entirely  recovered.  When  this  became  known,  the  mortifi- 
cation of  Mah-ton-wiss  can  hardly  be  imagined.  He  burned  all  his 
scalps,  —  and  he  had  several,  —  among  which  was  that  of  his  still 
living  enemy;  and  for  several  days  w^uld  eat  nothing,  but  sat  with 
his  head  down  upon  his  knees,  a  complete  picture  of  misery.     At 


334  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

length  one  morning  he  was  missed.  All  his  friends,  knowing  that 
in  such  cases  they  could  never  expect  to  see  him  again,  gave  him 
up  as  dead.  Several  weeks  had  elapsed,  when  one  day  Mah-ton- 
wiss  returned  to  the  village  on  horseback.  He  had  a  frightful 
wound  upon  his  face,  around  which  he  had  bound  a  strip  from  his 
mantle,  so  that  his  friends  did  not  know  him.  On  his  neck  there 
hung  six  fresh  scalps,  one  of  which  had  the  ears  and  part  of  the 
forehead  of  the  victim.  In  short,  I  need  hardly  say  that  it  was  the 
second  scalp  of  the  "Crow"  Indian,  who  had  survived  his  first 
scalping.  Mah-ton-wiss  had 'gone  alone,  —  had  watched  night  and 
day  for  his  enemy.  He  had  tracked  him  on  his  excursions  into  the 
wilderness,  living  upon  almost  nothing,  until  he  had  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  completing  his  revenge ;  and  not  only  that,  but  he  had 
obtained  five  scalps  besides.  A  shout,  such  as  savages  only  know 
how  to  raise,  went  up  from  the  village,  and  a  day  of  feasting  was 
appointed.  Of  course  Mah-ton-wiss  was  ranked  as  a  great  warrior 
forever  afterwards. 

An  Indian  of  most  tribes  will  never  scalp  a  woman  or  a  child. 
Perpetual  dishonor  would  be  the  result,  should  he  dare  to  present 
such  a  trophy  to  his  tribe.  So  that  you  will  find  many  rules  among 
savages,  concerning  this  cruel  act,  which  cannot  but  be  commended 
by  everybody.  Do  my  bright-eyed  friends  still  think  that  scalping 
is  a  very  cruel  act  ?  Why,  a  few  years  ago,  two  men  at  Washing- 
ton, the  capital  of  the  civilized  part  of  this  hemisphere,  went  out 
and  deliberately  shot  at  each  other  with  rifles.  One  of  the  men 
was  killed  upon  the  spot.  Both  of  these  men  were  members  of 
Congress  of  the  United  States.  If  we  hold  the  poor,  benighted, 
ignorant  Indian  accountable  for  all  his  acts  of  cruelty,  what  must  be 
said  of  some  of  the  "  customs"  of  our  own  land  and  times  ?  How- 
ever, perhaps  we  had  better  leave  such  questions  to  be  settled  by 
others,  and  go  on  with  our  story.  I  only  mention  the  circumstance, 
that  you  may  see  that  the  best  of  us  may  have  bad  habits,  and  that 
it  is  best  to  be  charitable  towards  those  who  aie  ignorant,  and  have 
not  been  blessed  with  the  light  of  the  everlasting  Gospel. 

One  day  Jollie  sauntered  carelessly  into  the  fort,  and  bid  me 
good-by.  "  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  I,  thinking  he  was  going 
away  himself.     "  Nowhere,"  he  replied,  "  nowhere  ;  but  you  had 


A    RESIDENCE    AMONG   THE    INDIANS.  335 

better  be  packing  up  your  traps,  for  there  's  a  big  smoke  coming  up 
the  creek." 

Just  at  that  instant  I  heard  the  booming  of  cannon  across  the 
water  and  upon  running  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  I  soon  learned 
the  cause  of  my  friend's  remark.  A  steamboat  was  in  sight,  plough- 
ing her  way  up  the  stream,  her  steam-pipe  roaring,  and  her  guns 
announcing  her  arrival,  as  if  they  bid  us  prepare  for  news  from 
home.  She  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  until  among  the  crowd  of 
adventurers  upon  the  deck  I  plainly  distinguished  the  countenance 
of  my  old  friend,  the  Captain. 

"  There,"  said  Jollie,  "  you  see  your  time  has  come.  You  must 
prepare  for  your  journey  to  the  home  of  ^he  pale  faces.  Go,  but  do 
not  forget  that  you  leave  stout-hearted  brothers  behind."  "You  are 
not  certain  that  I  am  to  return  in  this  boat,"  I  replied.  "  It  may  be 
otherwise.  At  any  rate,  I  shall  not  for  several  weeks."  I  comforted 
him  against  hope,  for  I  knew  that  I  must  return  with  the  boat, 
whenever  it  went. 

In  the  mean  time  the  men  at  the  fort  were  busy  in  preparing  the 
boat  for  her  departure.  Bales  of  goods  were  trundled  out  of  her 
hold,  carried  up  the  bank,  and  safely  deposited  in  the  fort;  and 
heavy  bundles  of  buffalo  and  other  skins  taken  on  board,  and  stowed 
away.  The  Indians,  ever  on  the  alert,  when  anything  new  or  curi- 
ous is  going  on,  were  standing  idly  about,  ready  to  pick  up  and  carry 
off  any  little  trinket  which  might  come  in  their  way.  Though 
I  was  preparing  to  go  off  with  the  boat,  and  leave  them  forever, 
not  the  slightest  notice  was  taken  of  the  fact  by  my  Indian  friends. 
I  have  often  wondered  why  the  Indians  should,  as  a  general  thing, 
care  so  little  about  absent  or  departing  friends.  Among  white 
people,  it  is  an  especial  time  for  shaking  hands,  bidding  fare- 
well, and  often,  very  often,  the  silent  tear  will  course  down  the 
cheek  at  the  parting  of  relatives,  or  old  companions.  Not  so  among 
the  savages.  They  look  upon  the  matter  with  the  most  careless 
indifference.  Perhaps  it  is  because  they  are  separated  so  often,  that 
it  becomes  a  second  nature  to  them.  Yet  it  would -seem  that  some 
generous  words  would  be  given  to  an  oil  friend  at  parting,  some  ex- 
pression of  hope  for  his  future  happiness.     It  ought  to  be  so. 

One  morning,  all  preparations  for  our  departure  being  completed 


33b  PICTORIAL    MISCELLANY. 

the  boat  was  "  fired  up,"  our  crew  and  passengers'  names  were 
called  over,  the  fastenings  were  unloosed,  and  our  craft  quietly  floated 
away  down  the  river,  being  saluted  by  a  volley  from  the  fort,  and 
that  never-to-be-forgotten  yell  of  the  assembled  multitude  of  Indians 
on  shore.  I  must  say  that  I  was  glad  to  get  on  our  voyage  down 
stream,  and  yet  I  left  many  things  with  real  regret.  It  had  been,  at 
any  rate,  an  interesting  home  to  me,  and  I  had  learned  and  seen 
many  characteristics  of  the  Indians,  which  to  me  were  valuable, 
and  worth  much  toil  and  privation.  I  had  learned  to  look  upon 
the  cruelties  of  the  ignorant  savages  with  considerable  more  charity 
than  disdain,  to  remember  the  amount  of  light  which  has  been  shed 
into  their  homes  and  haunts,  and  to  compare  their  religion  with  that 
of  the  white  men.  I  can  now  value,  as  I  never  valued  before — be- 
cause I  could  never  realize  their  true  dispositions  before  —  I  say,  I  can 
now  value  the  advantages  of  civilization,  which  fall  so  profusely 
among  the  youth  of  the  United  States ;  and  they  ought  to  be  thank- 
ful that  it  was  their  lot  to  be  born  in  a  civilized  land. 

I  will  not  tire  my  readers  with  a  description  of  our  voyage  home, 
inasmuch  as  everything  seemed  to  be  exactly  as  it  appeared  on  my 
trip  up,  one  year  previous.  Almost  every  bend  in  the  river  was 
remembered,  and  I  found  I  could  tell  the  names  of  most  of  the  rivers 
that  emptied  into  the  Missouri,  as  we  passed  their  mouths. 

Nothing  of  a  serious  nature  happened  to  our  boat  during  the 
whole  voyage,  and  at  the  end  of  five  weeks  we  arrived  at  St.  Louis. 
There  we  took  another  boat,  and  in  a  few  days  reached  home,  after 
an  absence  of  nearly  a  year  and  a  half. 


14  DAY  USE 

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